


What We Are

by azuredarkangel



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Fanart, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azuredarkangel/pseuds/azuredarkangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to ensure Kyrie leads the perfect life, Nero has to leave behind the very girl he cares most for. Maybe in time the memories will fade. So until then, Nero departs from Fortuna to go to the only person he can rely on: Dante. The demon hunter easily accepts him and takes on the arduous task of bringing the kid back to his feet.</p><p>Includes hand-drawn artwork.<br/>Ratings will change with progression.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Devil May Cry.

He was getting sick of it. The way people of Fortuna stared at him like he'd attack them at any second. Nero knew that the moment his Devil Bringer was revealed, the islanders would cast him out, and it didn't matter to them that he had drove the demons and corrupt knights out of their 'holy' church. He was a demon. It was all they would ever see in him.

Kyrie was the only ray of hope he had on Fortuna, but it pained him to know that the others viewed her as tainted for being with him. She was so sweet, so pure.

Nero watched her back as she prepared their dinner and he thought about how she had accepted him on the day he saved Fortuna. How she had held his demonic arm in her fragile hands.

His ears pick up the sound of her voice humming softly to herself; part of him felt relieved that he didn't lose her. The aroma of spices wafted throughout the kitchen; yet another part of him hated that he brought this difficult life upon her.

He couldn't save Credo and now he was bringing the scorn of Fortuna to Kyrie. Nero knew that the longer he stayed around her, the more difficult a life she would have. He couldn't give her a normal life. He wasn't normal. Or even human.

"Nero?"

Her voice broke Nero out of his thoughts and he straightened himself up in his seat. "Yeah? Sorry I was just thinking."

"About what? And can you set up the table?"

He got up to grab the plates in a cabinet above the sink. "Nothing really." He set the plates down and sat back in his chair.

"Are you sure?" She turned around, iron skillet in hand, and proceeded to serve them their meal.

He didn't really pay attention to the food. He had lost his appetite and all he was focused on was Kyrie. She sat down in front of him and his hand immediately moved to hers.

His heart swelled with warmth knowing that she didn't flinch away from him and he smiled gently at her. He saw the hint of pink coloring her cheeks and felt his heart race a bit faster. As he held her hand in his, Nero was silently telling himself that he was only making things harder – that he had to forget about his feelings for her and place her well-being before his selfish desires. He knew he couldn't give Kyrie the life she deserved and he had already ruined what little she had. Credo's death had been his fault, he was the one who failed to bring her brother back safely, failed to save him in time; and he was also to blame for getting Kyrie kidnapped. The Order had used Kyrie as a means to get to him and he didn't want anything like that to happen ever again. Kyrie's life woud take precedence over all else. And it would have to be a life without Nero.

He released her hand – albeit reluctantly – mumbled a quick apology, and thanked her for the meal. Parting from Kyrie would be the hardest thing he'd ever have to do. More so than facing off hordes of possessed Knights of the Order. The smile that Kyrie gave him nearly broke his resolve.

With that one simple and innocent act, Nero felt his world come crashing down at the thought of never seeing it again. He wished he'd never have to leave her side, but doing so would only endanger her, and it was a selfish wish.

 

* * *

 

That very night, Nero prepared to leave Fortuna, the small little island where he had spent practically his whole life in, where happy memories were made in his youth. The lights were off; the moonlight filtering through his room's window was all he needed to see in the darkness. Kyrie didn't need to be alerted if she happened to wake up and decide to check on him in the middle of the night.

He packed only the bare necessities; his clothes, toiletries, and most importantly- his weapons. After his favorite revolver, Blue Rose, was tucked securely into its holster and his custom-made sword, Red Queen, strapped tightly onto his back, Nero looked down at his demonic arm. His thoughts turned angry and dark as he stared at it. He hated it. When it warped his arm into this thing… into the Devil Bringer, it was then that he knew he wasn't human.

For days Nero had been in denial, going so far as to cover it up within a sling, but it didn't change the fact about what he truly was, and when the day came that his cursed arm was revealed, Nero wasn't shocked about Fortuna's change in demeanor towards him. It was only natural that they would distrust him after the whole savior incident, regardless of him taking down the real threat. To the people of Fortuna, he was a demon.

Double checking to see if he had all that he needed, Nero glanced around the room for anything he might have missed. Almost unconsciously, his eyes stopped on the picture frame atop his bedside table. It was a group photo; him, Kyrie, and Credo smiling into the camera. Nero went over to it and picked up the frame. 

_Those were happier days._

As he contemplated on whether or not to bring it along, his thumb traced over Kyrie's gentle smile.

 _No, leave it._  

It would only hurt him to see it all the time and would just make him want to return to Fortuna. He had to leave behind everything of sentimental value. So he forced himself to put it back down, grabbed his backpack, and left the room before he could get another chance to change his mind.

Quietly, he sneaked past Kyrie's bedroom, sparing only a moment to look back at her door. A sinking feeling filled his heart; he couldn't make himself say goodbye to her. Not even in his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a slow build story, so it'll take a while for Nero to get with Dante. Especially since I'll be trying to keep them in character. Trying. D;


	2. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to have the first drawing for the story. Woo woo? So my updates will also be based on when and if a chapter has a drawing. I'm not going to do it for every chapter. Hell no- let me be lazy! Happy reading~

Capulet city was not what Nero would consider a very welcoming place; with its old ratty looking buildings, trash and vagabonds littering the tiny streets and alleyways, and the all-around murkiness that not only clogged the skyline, but seemed to also pollute the very air he breathed. It was why Nero decided that he did not like the cluttered, shut-in atmosphere of the city; it made him feel sick and claustrophobic despite its larger size compared to the clean, open air of Fortuna. The dreary city would never be Nero's first choice to go to, but he knew a certain half demon resided in Capulet, and he knew of no one else to turn to outside of Fortuna.

Nero traversed through the narrow streets. He knew what he was looking for but he didn't know where to look. Capulet city was a maze and he was quickly becoming directionally disoriented. It didn't help matters when the homeless kept stopping him in his tracks to beg him for money. He brushed them all aside, not because he didn't care, but because he had used up all his money just to get to the damned city.

He was growing impatient and annoyed with every passing second. So he went into the nearest building. The strong smell of coffee assaulted his nose and he instantly knew he had entered a café. There were even waitresses going from table to table on roller-skates, who looked as if they were dancing to the lively tune that was being played from a radio. He would never understand the strangeness of city folk, but at least it was better than the cold inhospitality of the city outside.

He shook his head and took a seat at a counter. Not a minute later a waitress came by, a cheerful smile on her delicate features. "Hey, Dante! Back alr-?" She stopped mid-sentence when she realized she was wrong and stared at Nero in confusion. "Oh. I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else." She said, quickly correcting herself.

"You know Dante?" Nero asked the young waitress. Inside he felt relieved that he finally found someone who knew who he was looking for and give him the chance to at least find a familiar face. The foreign city had him more on edge than he initially thought.

"Yeah, he comes by here often. You also just missed him." She added by pointing out the door.

Nero was up and out of his seat in the next moment. "Where did he go?" He looked out the windows to see if he can catch the tell-tale sign of red and the shock of white hair that was so much like his own.

"He runs an office nearby called Devil May Cry. Big neon sign. You can't miss it!" She leaned over the counter-top to gesture him the direction. "Just keep heading straight up from here and you'll find it."

Nero was already out the door before he could hear her ask if he was related to Dante.

_Finally._ Nero had actually been worried if he would have to keep searching for god knows how long and camp out in the streets if he didn’t find Dante in time. He followed the waitress' general direction and jogged straight ahead while he also kept an eye out for the older man. When he came to a junction, there across the street he saw a giant neon sign that blinked  _Devil May Cry_  in red.

"What a stupid name." He said to no one in particular, before crossing the short distance to the front door.

Nero knocked on the door, idly looking around as he waited patiently for a response. When no one answered, he knocked again – harder this time. Still no reply. 

_He must not be back._ So Nero decided to go inside, the door creaking slightly as he pushed it open. It was dim inside the office he had stepped in; the lights were out, and from what Nero could judge by all the trash and dust collected on the floor, it looked as if the place was never occupied. Nero trudged carefully through the mess and scanned the cracked walls and worn-out furniture. 

_There's pizza boxes everywhere. What the-_

Then his keen senses were picking up another presence – his Devil Bringer flashing blue – and all thoughts about the filthy office were set aside as he tried to discern what and where it was. But he realized it was too late to tell if it was friend or foe and he was forced to draw his gun, aiming it in the general direction he guessed the presence would appear.

Ice blue eyes met Nero's and a familiar smirk graced rugged features.

"Old man." Nero said in slight surprise as his stance faltered a little. He knew he was in Dante's office, but he definitely didn't expect a greeting like this.

"Surprised to see you too, kid." Dante quirked an eyebrow at Nero from behind the barrels of Blue Rose aimed at his face. He had Rebellion out and held it against Nero's neck, its steel blade grazing the sensitive skin there. "I felt a demonic aura, but I didn't think I'd find you wandering around in my place."

Nero scoffed at the older man. "Yeah, lovely home you got here by the way."

The two hunters didn't lower their weapons; they were in a dead-lock, ready for a fight, and reveled in the presence of a worthy opponent. The excitement of battle shined in both of their eyes, and each was eager and willing to go against one another to test their mettle. So they stood in silence, grinning at each other in a challenge, until finally, they simultaneously broke apart.

"Don't get me wrong," Dante started, clapping a hand onto Nero's shoulder. "It's nice to see you again, but what brought you here all the way from your cozy little island?"

"Just felt like I needed to see more of the world." Nero answered nonchalantly and shrugged his shoulders for emphasis. Nero wasn't lying, but he knew that he wasn't telling Dante the whole truth. He knew he could trust Dante, but he also knew that the hunter didn't really need to know his reasoning for leaving Fortuna behind. It was too personal. He didn't want to look weak in front of Dante.

Fortunately for Nero, Dante didn't question him anymore about it and easily accepted his answer. He walked over to his desk, turning on the lights as he went, before he sat himself down on his chair. "So now you're wondering if I can help you out in the big bad world, eh?"

"Shut it, old man." Nero quickly retorted, crossing his arms in seriousness. "But yeah, if you have any unwanted jobs, then I could take them off your hands."

"Hmm… tempting…" Dante mockingly stroked the stubble on his chin as if he was thinking deeply. "And what would I get for helping you?"

"Less work." Nero stated bluntly.

Dante chuckled at his attitude. "And you got a place to stay?"

Nero looked around the dingy office – at the dusty floor and neglected furniture. "I'll find my own place after I make enough money."

"Are you saying you'll be crashing here in my office?"

"Not because I want to."

"Alright." Dante leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk. "Make yourself at home." And with that, he gestured using his thumb. "You can use the room upstairs."

"Thanks." He was really grateful for what Dante's doing for him. He nodded at the older man before he made his way up the stairs. With every step, he felt the weight lift off his shoulders from the thought of finally getting some rest. Ironically, he never realized how heavy his bag and Red Queen had gotten on his back. But once he was in the room, he slipped his backpack off his shoulder and dumped it by the door. He unstrapped Red Queen off next and laid her against the wall by his bag. Then he strode over to the bed and placed Blue Rose on a drawer table nearby. He finally flopped face-first onto the bed in exhaustion.

The bed was surprisingly soft, he noted to himself. As he laid there on the cushioned mattress, Nero absent-mindedly registered the scent of the pillow beneath his head. It was a dark, heady scent – of blood and gunpowder – and strangely, there was a subtle sweet smell underneath it all. It was very faint; and as Nero was sniffing the pillow with his eyes closed, he realized belatedly that he was in Dante's bed. Nero flipped onto his back hastily, feeling awkward now that he knew he was given Dante's room. The whole area was permeated with the older man's scent and Nero mentally tried to block it out.

_I need to find my own place. Soon._ Part of him was starting to feel guilty for intruding. Especially, when there was no space for him to stay without inconveniencing Dante _. For a demon hunter, that old man is too nice…_

The orange-red glow of sunset seeped in through the grimy windows and Nero found himself reminded of the warmth of Fortuna; a vivid memory of Kyrie singing just for him played inside his mind. He cursed himself and covered his eyes against the vibrant colors that managed to break through the dust-covered glass. He couldn't go back. He shouldn't think about her. He needed to forget.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Kid, I'm ordering pizza," came Dante's voice, which was a much needed – and welcomed – distraction. "You want anything?"

Nero got up and opened the door for Dante since it seemed rude to answer him through the door.

"Anything's fine, really." He said to the older man before he sat back down on the bed. Nero didn't realize Dante was watching him closely until he looked back up to see Dante's eyes trained steadily on him.

"You settling in okay?" Dante asked, a hint of concern in his voice, or maybe that was just Nero being paranoid that the older man sensed something was off.

Out of sheer habit, Nero rubbed at his nose in embarrassment. "Oh… yeah- and thanks... for letting me use your room."

"I barely use it. Gotta stay by the phone." Dante nodded his head toward the desk on the lower floor. Then he was back to watching again and it had Nero squirming under all the scrutiny. If the older man hadn't figured it out by now, then Nero's nervous energy was a definitive indicator that things were amiss.

"Uh… yeah?" Nero asked, uncomfortable from all the staring.

Dante looked like he was going to say something, but then he shrugged his shoulders. "You look tired, kid. Was just wondering if you're all right."

_So he could tell…_ Well as if it wasn't obvious enough with the way Nero fidgeted.

"I'm fine. Just tired from the long trip." Nero scratched the back of his head. "Even got lost trying to find you in this city."

A small chuckle came from Dante. "Well, I'll call you when the pizza arrives." As he left, Dante closed the door behind him and relief flooded Nero's systems when he heard the sound of Dante's footsteps retreating down the stairs.

Hesitantly, he laid back down on the soft mattress. Despite after being told that the older man didn't really use the room, Dante's scent was the strongest here. Nero felt around the plush comforter with his hands.  _Dante's a horrible liar._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Hope you'll stay for the ride. Am I saying that right? Haha who cares.
> 
> Seriously love AO3 for the feature to add pics...


	3. House Keeping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The band Red is a huge inspiration for this story. "As You Go" was on repeat. I'm sorry for my fragmented rant, but give 'em a listen if you're a fan of rock. :D

It had only been a few days since Nero made a temporary residence at Devil May Cry and the piles of trash strewn about the place was already bothering him to no end. He had now taken it up himself and decided to do some house cleaning for his own sake; it also provided Nero something to do to keep himself busy since Dante still hadn't offered him any jobs.

The older man was out again. Nero guessed Dante was either on a mission or chatting up local girls at a bar. Whatever the case, now was a good time to get started with the mess that littered the office floor. The pizza boxes were the first priority, seeing as how dozens of them were stacked in haphazard piles around the desk. Nero made quick work with the pizza boxes and stuffed them all into plastic bags; he was shocked to see how many bags he ended up needing to use.

_How is he not sick from eating the same thing every day?_

Nero shook his head in disbelief and carried the bags outside. He found it annoying that he was actually cleaning up after the older man but he was being given a place to stay and told himself that he would try to keep Dante from making a future mess as he tossed the trash bags to the curb.

Next, he managed to find a broom in the weapons rack. Why a broom had been left with deadly equipment gave Nero plenty of ideas to speculate about, but he doubted a broom would do much damage to an enemy, much less to any of the demons that were likely to be hunted by Dante. Nero stopped his wandering mind and began sweeping throughout the office.

At the center stood a pool table, its pool balls scattered across the felt top from an unfinished game. Located nearby was a large leather couch. Nero suspected that was where Dante had been really sleeping on for the past couple of days and he suddenly felt guilt for the older man's sleeping accommodations. Nero really wished he could afford to rent an apartment or something so he didn't have to intrude on Dante like this. So far, Dante hadn't given him any hints about jobs yet, but Nero hoped he'll get to take one soon.

_The sooner, the better actually._

Nero continued his sweeping and noticed a jukebox in the corner of the office. Curious, he set the broom aside on the wall and went over to the old machine. It wasn't on, but Nero could clearly see that it was plugged into an outlet. He started pushing random buttons to see if the juke box would turn on, but nothing happened; the dusty old thing stayed dead.

 _Guess it's just broken._ Nero lightly banged on the wooden top and the jukebox instantly sparked into life, its lights flickering on. Startled by the unexpected white noise emanating from the machine, Nero jerked away from it. Eventually, the static gave way to tacky, outdated music which blared loudly from its speakers. Already, Nero was regretting his decision to turn the old jukebox on. So after a few excruciating minutes and repeated smacks from Nero later, the jukebox finally died out and was silent once again. 

 _Damn thing._ Nero returned to his earlier task of cleaning up, his ears still ringing from the horrible music.

After he was finished with cleaning, Nero returned the broom to its spot on the weapons rack and then called himself stupid for actually putting the broom back where he found it. Nero dismissed his little blunder and took in the view of the office; he did what he could and was able to clean up most of the troublesome messes, yet he knew the office still looked like it had seen better days. At least now there was enough room to walk without stepping on week old pizza.

The dust was aired out through the windows as well and above all- the place was simply cleaner. Nero couldn't wrap his mind around how Dante could stand to live in such a dirty place, but he figured it was just pure laziness on the older man's part.

Suddenly, the phone on Dante's desk began ringing. If it was a customer, Nero could finally earn himself some cash and he knew it'd be more convenient to accept jobs while Dante wasn't around.

Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Nero decided to take the initiative and answered the phone call.

"Hello?" The caller asked, "Is this Devil May Cry?"

"It is."

 

* * *

 

The job Nero had taken involved slaying a demon that had been preying on helpless young women during the night. It took quite some time, but Nero found the target stalking its new prey; he interrupted the demon before it could ambush the unsuspecting woman, who was ignorant enough to travel alone at night.

Nero chased after the fleeing demon but it tried to use the darkened paths behind buildings as a tactic to lose the young hunter. It was a fatal mistake for the demon. The winding paths only ended up working against the demon's plan and it had mistakenly cornered itself.

So when Nero blocked the only exit out of the little dead-end alley it had run into, the demon tried to plead with him. Not one word that would have been uttered by the desperate demon got through because Nero blew its head off into pieces using his revolver. The stone wall behind was splattered with black demon blood; globs of its remains clung to the surface of the building. Nero felt no remorse as he watched the headless corpse slink to the ground.

The thing sickened him. It would grovel for its own life but easily take the life of a mother, daughter, or sister despite any pleas for mercy.

Nero told himself that he's not truly a demon – at least not a demon as depraved as the one he had just gunned down. He turned his back on the gruesome scene before him and made his way out of the alley to head toward his next objective: he was to meet up with the client and receive his reward. The rendezvous was at an address located near the edge of the city. Since Nero didn't have any cash on him at the moment, he was stuck with a long trek.

The sun had set long ago and now the moon casted a silvery light across the cityscape, making it look more dull and eerie than usual. Nero looked up and down the street he was on; hunting the demon had led him far from the brighter lights of the city and he knew it would take a while before he could reach his destination – even longer if the confusing paths and narrow streets manage to make Nero lose his way – again.

Nero felt as if he would never get used to Capulet. It made him feel trapped, especially with its tall, rigid buildings that loomed ominously overhead. Pretty soon, Nero started to feel homesick, so in an abrupt attempt to divert his thoughts, he punched a nearby wall, feeling the bricks crumble beneath his demonic fist.

He was getting pissed at himself. It seemed as if every little thing was determined to remind him of what he left behind in Fortuna – who he left behind – and now his days are spent fighting against the memories that threatened to overwhelm him.

_Focus. Report to the client, get the cash, and go back home._

Nero wondered if he should start considering Dante's office as his new home – or at least a place where he was welcomed. As rundown as the Devil May Cry was, it had become a safe haven for Nero; it was a place where he can rest assured knowing he won't be blamed or judged because of what kind of blood he carried within him.

A gust of cool wind blew by, swirling up scraps of discarded paper. While walking, Nero looked up into the night sky and wondered if the old man was waiting back at the office with more pizza. At that thought, Nero scoffed and chastised himself. He will  _not_  start liking pizza. There was only so much pizza he could eat before he got sick and tired of having it for every meal.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner; pizza was all Dante seemed to live off of.

Finally, Nero arrived at quaint little pub. Once inside, he was able to find the client based on the description given to him over the phone and was paid a hefty sum of cash for a job well done. Nero pocketed his payment and made a mental note to go grocery shopping later on.

 

* * *

 

Sure enough, when Nero returned to Devil May Cry, there on top of Dante's desk was a steaming hot box of fresh pizza.

"You're just in time for dinner." Dante pronounced, holding up a slice of cheesy pepperoni pizza to show Nero what was obviously on the menu for tonight.

"Again?" Nero said exasperatedly, but he knew it was to be expected and still went to grab his own slice.

"Whine all you want – you know you love it."

"Whatever," Nero retorted before he took a bite. He felt the melted cheese burn his tongue slightly and saw the delicate strings it created. Nero won't deny that pizza was delicious, but it was better to eat it once in a while.

"So what were you out doing?" Dante asked, looking genuinely curious.

"I did a little job while you were gone. Hope you didn't mind." Nero sat down on the couch, which creaked under his weight, and he started feeling guilty all over again; he knew Dante was sleeping on the lumpy old furniture and not on his own comfortable bed because of him.

"Quick to work, aren't you?" Dante was already reaching for another slice of pizza.

"And spend all day cleaning up after you?" Nero remarked, eyeing the soon-to-be-empty box. He hoped the older man wouldn't be stacking pizza boxes any time soon after he had just cleaned the place.

"I noticed my office looks better. Thanks, kid, but you know you didn't have to clean."

"Just didn't want to freeload." Nero admitted. He finished his slice of pizza; one was enough since he didn't have much of an appetite tonight.

With a smirk, Dante teased him, "Looks like you've been raised as a house wife."

"Go to Hell." Nero partially growled. Once again, another memory stirred within him, of times when he had helped Kyrie with her chores. She was always humming a little tune as she set about doing her daily tasks. Now, he could only hear her echoing hollowly in his memories. Nero mentally pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind before Dante could notice. "I chose to pull my own weight."

"If only someone taught you some manners." Dante added, the smirk never leaving his face.

The corners of Nero's lips twitched upward. "Like yours is any better than mines."

"Kid. I'm practically charming." The older man drawled, leaning back lazily in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head.

"Right..." Nero walked over to Dante's desk and snatched the box; a few slices of pizza still remain untouched. "Starting tomorrow, we'll be eating something other than this. And I mean  _real_  food."

With a whine unbefitting the legendary son of Sparda, Dante tried grabbing the pizza box back, but Nero was quicker, managing to avoid the pair of swift hands, and he ignored all protests from the older demon hunter.

"What's the matter, old man?" Nero taunted. "Can't keep up anymore?" For the first time in what felt like ages, Nero found himself laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. I tried to get more interaction between the two. I'm doing my best to keep them in character and stuff. Sorry if this doesn't feel so lovey-dovey romantic comedy. I think I don't have a romantic bone in my body (no, seriously), yet here I am shipping the two in the most manliest way possible. lol I might be kidding. I love things subtle. So I hope I'm not making anyone squint to see the budding relationship between the two.
> 
> Most importantly, thank you for reading!


	4. Anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is a bit graphic. Well to me it is. So no one can say I didn't warn you!

Nero was running. His heavy breathing coupled with his frantic footsteps were the only sounds that echoed around him. He had to hurry – hurry before it's-

A man was falling to his death.

"Credo!" Nero shouted; his hands reached out and grasped at empty air. There was nothing but a black void that stretched out endlessly around him. And it seemed to encase him, suffocate him, as he desperately tried to hasten his speed. Nero's shoulders sagged when he lost sight of the man. He had only been a few feet away from catching Credo – a few feet too late to save him.

 _Why couldn't I run faster!?_  Nero started to scream, despair eating him from the inside because he couldn't save his best friend, the one who had always watched over him. He sank to his knees as the violent sobs racked his body.

"Nero…" A soft voice came from behind; Nero knew who that particular voice belonged to and he didn't know if he could last another painful encounter. Steeling himself, Nero slowly stood up and turned around to see her – to face whatever came next.

There, standing behind him and waiting patiently, was Kyrie.

"Why did you go...?" She asked him somberly; tears stained her fair cheeks. Kyrie truly looked angelic as she stood crying before him and it broke Nero's heart once more.

"I had to. I-…" Nero said, still bleary-eyed, and he carefully inched himself closer to Kyrie. "I wanted you to-…" Like a wisp of smoke, Kyrie dissipated the moment his fingers brushed against her dress. In confusion, Nero frantically looked for Kyrie.  _I almost had her!_

"You abandoned us."

Nero whirled around. There were two voices this time; Credo and Kyrie had reappeared, their eyes filled with sorrow as they both stared at him.

"It's not like that!" Nero pleaded to them in earnest, desperately hoping they would understand. Again, Nero tried to close the distance between them – yet again, they slipped further from reach. "Listen, I had-…"

"You betrayed us!" Both Kyrie and Credo shouted, their synchronized voices reverberated angrily in the endless void, making them sound completely inhuman. Blood was dripping out from every orifice of the two siblings and Nero could do nothing but watch in horror as a dark pool of red sluggishly trickled around their feet. Credo started to slowly melt away; his face melancholic as he watched Nero, until he eventually became reduced to nothing but a bubbling mass of flesh.

Now only Kyrie was left standing alone in front of Nero. It was a morbid sight for him to see blood oozing from Kyrie's eyes – her eyes that continued to stare at him, devoid of any emotion. With finality, she lowered her lids and spoke one last time in a voice that could only hint of a deeper regret.

"I will die because of you."

 

* * *

 

"No!" Nero shot up in bed, his hands clenching the sheets within a tight fist. He was gasping for air and sweat was beading his forehead.

 _A dream... it was just a dream..._ Nero took a deep breath, dropping his head into his hands. The images of his dream were burned into his mind and he felt his throat constrict in pain as he stifled his cries.

"Kid?" Someone called.

Since Nero's mind was still in a haze, his heart jumped in panic even though he knew the voice belonged to Dante. Nero barely registered the sound of the door opening as he quickly tried to compose himself before the older man came in and saw him in his sad state.

"Hey, are you alright?" Dante touched Nero's shoulders suddenly and it made Nero reflexively flinch back from the sudden contact.

 _Get it together!_  Nero swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and tried his best to sound calm. "I'm fine, uh… trouble sleeping."

"You're pale. Got sick or something?" Dante was getting closer to Nero so he could have a better look.

"Maybe…" Nero lied, leaning away, but Dante placed a hand over Nero's forehead.  _Does the old man understand the concept of personal space?_

"Your temperature feels fine." Dante said, his face looking oddly concentrated.

Nero swatted the older man's hand away, feeling agitated and nervous at the same time. "You don't need to do that."

"Maybe I'm not checking it right…" Dante murmured, ignoring what Nero had just said. He leaned into Nero's face and gently touched their foreheads together.

"What are you doing?!" Nero sputtered as he pulled away, but Dante kept a firm grip on Nero's shoulders.

"Will you stop moving around?" Dante ordered as he tried to pull Nero back close.

"I said-!"

"What. Is.  _This?_ " A feminine voice drawled, catching the attention of the two men grappling on the bedside.

A tall blonde woman stood by the door with a look of bemusement clearly written on her face. Accompanying the blonde was another woman of a smaller stature; she had stylishly cropped black hair and sported a pair of sunglasses.

Dante released his hold on Nero and straightened himself up to greet the two women. "Trish! Lady…" He paused for a second to stare seductively at the shorter woman. "I didn't think you girls would be coming by today."

"Apparently." The woman named Lady said with contempt, her arms crossed. Even behind the tinted frames it was obvious she had a scowl directed at Dante.

"Come on, Lady. Always gotta jump to conclusions." Dante strolled languidly over to her. "I was honestly checking his temperature." Nero felt his cheeks getting warm because he realized how the situation must have looked to outsiders.

Lady only answered with a scoff and purposely turned her face away from Dante.

To distract himself from his embarrassment, Nero switched his attention over to the blonde and he swore that he had seen her before.  _She looks familiar. And what did Dante call her again? Trish? Oh right. She was the one who disguised herself as a member named 'Gloria.'_

He had almost forgotten about her; the dark-skinned blonde with bowl-cut hair was the same busty woman that had entered the room. Of course, her complexion was lighter now and she was dressed almost as scantily as before with her skin-tight leather pants paired with a black corset that showed off her ample cleavage. Nero never bothered to remember Trish. Mostly because the woman was a dangerous tease and all Nero had needed to focus on back then was Kyrie.

Trish caught Nero staring at her and sauntered over to his side. "Like what you see?" She cooed, her seduction rivaling Dante's.

"No." Nero avoided looking in her direction now, keeping his eyes off the sway of her hips. The woman had always been the provocative type; every movement she made was meant to capture any man's attention.

Trish's sultry laughter resounded in the room. "Maybe I should fix that? Hmm~"

 _I'd rather you don't._  In annoyance, Nero pinched the bridge of his nose.  _I just want to be left alone…_  The images of his horrific dream were still floating around in the back of his mind, and right now, Nero didn't want to deal with either the noise or his thoughts.

"Careful, kid." Dante said, pulling Nero's attention back to the clamor. "She'll eat you alive."

Another fit of laughter came from Trish; she gave a slight tilt to her head as she smiled coyly at Dante. "And you won't? We saw the way you were pawing at him earlier."

"I said I was just-!" Dante started, his finger pointing at Trish, but then he dropped his hand and lamely sighed in defeat. "Forget it. What do you girls want?"

Nero inwardly groaned at how easily the older man gave up trying to explain the situation.

"I got a job I need you to do." Lady stated, looking fed up with the idiocy. She handed Dante a piece of paper. "Here's the info."

Dante skimmed the paper and he frowned at what he had read. "Why do I have to do it? You got Trish with you right here."

"Because we're going shopping!" Trish declared happily, her eyes twinkling with a secret delight. "And we love giving you the dirty work."

"Give me a break you two! I'll never get out of debt if you guys keep using my credit!" The older man practically whined at them.

"Your new partner can help you out." Lady said almost accusingly and she turned on her heels to exit the room. Over her shoulder, she dismissively added, "The pay is good, so I suggest you better get started."

"See you boys later." Trish winked at Nero before following her friend out.

Once the two were finally gone, Dante heaved a sigh. "There goes my money..." He looked down at Nero and smiled crookedly. "Well kid, care to get out of bed and tag along?"

 

* * *

 

The two followed Lady's advice and immediately set out to do the job. Their mission took them to a mansion located on the outskirts of Capulet. Dante had given Nero a brief synopsis of their agenda during the car ride: kill every last demon.

 _How informative._ Nero had thought, but he was actually fine with it – it was straight and to the point.

Dante gave a low whistle at the size of the estate; the grounds by themselves were huge, boasting a variety of beautifully catered flower gardens from the iron gates to the marbled steps beneath the mansions elegantly carved mahogany double doors. The mansion itself was settled nicely within thick woods, isolated from the hustle and bustle of the city. Topping it all off was a finely detailed Mermaid water fountain centered on the giant well-groomed lawn.

Yet no matter how appealing the outside seemed, it belied the happenings that occurred secretly inside the mansion. Nero imagined the one who owned the fancy estate was some kind of unfortunate rich snob that got a little too bored. Why else would they be called there to exterminate demons?

On their way to the entrance, Dante plucked a red rose from a bush and proffered it to Nero, who simply smacked it out of the older man's hand in annoyance. The older man feigned hurt as Nero continued past him. The job was more important and Nero wasn't one to fool around during work.

Together, Dante and Nero entered the mansion. It was eerily quiet as they surveyed the surrounding area; all the curtains were pulled closed and the only light source came from a chandelier, so it was fairly dim. The two slowly advanced deeper inside, going toward a grand staircase that led to the upper floors. Nero was already picking up multiple spikes in demonic energy and his Devil Bringer was flaring a blue hue, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact locations – there were too many that it felt like they were in constant motion – as if they were toying with him.

The tense disquiet was shattered by a high pitched screech and the doors behind the hunters were slammed shut. Before Nero or Dante could look to see what had closed them, the chandelier came crashing down and trapped the two in total darkness. For a moment, Nero panicked as he recalled the yawning black void of his dream, but then he willed himself to stay in control of his emotions. Soon, Nero's eyes had readjusted to the lack of light and he readied his Blue Rose.

"Looks like it's time to get started." Dante said. He whipped out his favored twin pistols, Ebony and Ivory, and twirled them expertly in his hands.

A chorus of giggles erupted around the room; it was the laughter of numerous women – a cascade of sounds to the hunters' ears. Something grazed past Nero and he fired a few rounds at it in surprise, but their movements were swift and agile and it was able to evade his bullets with ease. Dante and Nero's eyes trailed after the flying figure as it perched atop a support beam in the ceiling.

"You got to be kidding me." Nero said in disbelief, not liking what he saw.

"It was in the job description." Dante had his pistols locked-and-loaded and looked like he was itching to have some fun.

"Heh." After reloading his gun, Nero trained his aim on the group of succubi that nested on the beams above. The succubi just crooned and tauntingly blew kisses at the hunters. "Kill every last demon."

Simultaneously, the two started to shoot up at the group and the demonesses rapidly disperse from their nesting area. A few shrieked in pain when their wings got punctured with bullet holes, and they plummeted from the high ceiling straight down to the floor, dying on impact. Yet no matter how many the hunters downed, there were still more. The succubi circled around Nero and Dante, their giggles trilling out in a predatory cacophony.

One swooped down toward Nero – the succubus' violet eyes were alight with excitement. The demoness' screech pealed through the air as its elongated nails reached out to grab him. Nero raised his gun in time and, with deft accuracy, blasted one of its arms off. The injured succubus screamed in agony as it tumbled to the ground, its blood smearing the smooth surface of the floors. Before Nero could finish off the demoness, another one came up behind him and latched onto his hood, yanking him up forcefully into the air. Nero dropped his revolver in surprise, his breathing constricted from his own jacket as the succubus flew higher.

Dante, who had been busy wooing some of the succubi while he fought them, stopped to pull the trigger on the succubus carrying Nero. A bullet pierces through the succubus' forehead and lodged itself inside its skull. The dead succubus released its hold on Nero as it gracelessly dropped to the floor with a thud while Nero landed on his feet, coughing for air.

"What's the matter, kid? Got too cocky?"

Nero knew it was a jibe directed at him for taking away Dante's pizza. He flipped the older man off, picked up his fallen gun, and returned to shooting down the remaining demonesses.

Meanwhile, Dante returned to ogling a succubus nearby, watching its full breasts bounce with every flap of its leathery wings. With his pistols still in hand, Dante created the shape of an hour glass in the air as he admired the voluptuous curves of the demoness.

Then the very chest he was staring at had burst in a shower of gore, clumps of flesh flying outward. Dante back-stepped away to avoid the mess as it splashed onto the floor in front of his boots. Standing behind the fallen succubus was Nero – a trail of smoke rising from the barrel of his revolver.

Nero noticed the slight pout on the older man's face. "Did I interrupt something?" He gave a smug little grin as Dante's frown grew bigger.

By now, only a few of the succubi still remained and Nero scanned around for the one that he didn't quite finish off. None of the demonesses in the area had a missing arm. Then Nero noticed an obvious trail of blood leading to a door. As he made his way out, Nero gunned down another succubus and left, leaving the rest for Dante.

Cautiously, Nero went into the next room – his Blue Rose at the ready. A sliver of daylight slipped through the velvet curtains, allowing Nero to see his surroundings in greater detail. It looked like he was in a study room; bookshelves lined the wall from floor to ceiling and paper was scattered across cluttered tabletops. Nero looked down and followed the blood droplets further in. As Nero neared the back of the room, a soft hiccupping crying could be heard.

Huddled in the corner, cradling the bleeding stub of what was once an arm was Kyrie. Nero froze in place when he saw her, confusion slowly creeping in. She looked up at Nero and her breathing speeds into shallow pants; her eyes widened in terror as they started to moisten with tears.

"wh-Why did you hurt me...?" Her voice quivered.

Nero's throat suddenly became dry, and the revolver he had held steadily in his hand was now trembling in hesitation; he knew it was just the succubus' illusion, but he couldn't say anything – he couldn't think. The events of his dream were coming back in full force, and for him to see his nightmare this close to reality made something crack within.

"Please..." She choked out, crawling towards Nero on her knees; her bloodied hand reached up to clutch at his jacket. "Don't kill me..."

Her last few words sent a jolt through Nero and he dropped his gun, falling to his knees as he felt the beginning of a torrential storm brewing inside him.

With a whimper, she wrapped her one arm around Nero, who remained stoic in the embrace.

"Do you love me?" She asked, peering up into his face. But Nero doesn't really see her; his eyes were distant as his vision overlapped with his memories of Kyrie.

With quivering arms, Nero finally returned the embrace, feeling the tears sting behind his eyes as he gently stroked her hair. A soft sigh breezed against the skin of Nero's neck and her arm tightened around his shoulders. When Nero closed his eyes, he could feel the fluttering of her heartbeat against his chest.

"You're not Kyrie." And Nero snapped its neck; its body went slack in his arms. An instant and mercifully painless death. To Nero's relief, the succubus returned to its original form and he laid it down on the floor. Nero's hand was shaking as he picked up his revolver again for the second time that day. He was losing focus; he can't concentrate. In silent rage, he grabbed a chair and hurled it toward one of the bookshelves, smashing both the shelves and chair into splinters – its books tumbling down with the wreckage.

Only a fraction of his anger was lifted from his outburst, but he was wasting time now and quickly exited the room. Back where he last left Dante, Nero saw the corpse of succubi strewn about the damaged floor but there was no sign of the older man. He glanced over to the grand staircase and spotted evidence of a fight leading upstairs. In addition, Nero also heard scuffling coming from the floor above and he swiftly ascended the steps to offer any assistance.

The sounds have stopped, but there was light coming from a room at the end of a hallway – its double doors opened wide. From where Nero stood, he could see someone flipping through the pages of a book. After reaching the doorway, Nero holstered his Blue Rose and waited quietly for the older man to finish.

Dante glanced up from what he's reading and gave Nero a smirk. "Enjoy your little one-on-one?"

Nero didn't respond.

Unperturbed by Nero's silence, Dante stepped over the dead succubus that lay at his feet and tossed the book in his hand over to him. Nero caught it and studied the cover, but he couldn't even read the title; the letters were completely illegible.

"This guy right here..." Dante directed Nero's attention to what was behind him. "...used that summoning tome, hoping he'd get laid with one of the girls. Talk about sad."

On the king sized bed was the body of a mutilated man; his eyes were gouged out, his torso lacerated with claw marks, and even his genitals were missing. Blood drenched his entire body, more so at his lower half, and the silken white sheets were stained a deep crimson.

Dante noticed Nero's eyes were lingering on the man's missing appendage. "One of them must have eaten it. You didn't kiss one now, did you, kid?"

"We're done here." Nero had lost his patience with the older man and he just wanted to get out of the place. Now. He couldn't stand another minute around the succubi. "These things should rot in hell."

"I'd like to see Trish's face when she hears that she's not your type." Dante chuckled.

 

* * *

 

On the drive home, Nero couldn't stop seeing Kyrie crying inside his mind; his whole body was tense, clawed hand clenching and unclenching in agitation. He remembered the fluid motion, the sharp crack, the dying wisp of a breath – it was all just an illusion. Nero had already known it was nothing but a trick, yet deep inside, it hurt him.

From beside him, Nero saw Dante's lips moving, but he didn't hear what the older man says. Everything sounded muted to him; the passing scenery a complete blur.

"Kid." Dante's hand on his shoulder broke Nero from his trance.

" _What._ " Nero tried to suppress his growing anger, but some of it leaked through in his curt reply. "Sorry... I didn't mean-..."

Dante looked at him puzzled, his eyebrow raised in question. "You okay there? You've been out of it since we left. Don't tell me you really did kiss-"

"No! ... No, I'm fine... a little tired." Nero sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He actually didn't want to go to sleep, for fear of having another nightmare. Nero was mentally, and now physically, drained.

"Don't you dare take a nap on my nice, clean bed with all that blood on you." Dante joked.

"Wasn't planning to." The stench of death seemed to cling onto Nero, never wanting him to forget.

 

* * *

 

Nero was there again. It was pitch black. This time he's not running- this time he's still. Motionless. Something weighed heavily in his clawed hand. The metallic smell of copper tinged the air, filling his lungs as he breathed it in deeply. Nero lifted the weight up high- higher- until he felt warmth trickling down the length of his arm in rivulets.

"s-Stop..." The thing in his hand pleaded to him – its voice inaudible. "Let me... go..."

It was futile. Nero didn't comply. Instead, he tightened his grip around what felt to be a neck. Every ounce of his being was begging him to keep squeezing the life out of it as a pair of hands feebly tried to pry free from his grip. It was dark and all Nero could hear was the sound of someone desperately struggling to breathe. Soon, they stopped fighting him, their hands falling away from his arm in defeat. Silence. He still didn't relinquish his hold, but he did lower his arm. Nero couldn't see the glow of his Devil Bringer and he indistinctly knew that there is only one time it would ever stop glowing.

From the void, a soft, lilting voice started singing in the darkness. Even though Nero's mind was fogged with bloodlust, he could still tell that it was a hymn sung during his childhood. It didn't take long for Nero to figure out that the singing came from beneath him – clutched tightly in his claws. Yet Nero could not feel any vibrations coming from the throat he brutally held on to.

Growling, Nero violently shook the thing, trying to stop the damned voice from singing.  _Shut up! ShutupShutupSHUTUP!_ Nero dug his claws into the flesh and ripped out its throat, wishing he could see the carnage.

But the singing didn't stop; the disembodied voice had only grown louder.

Suddenly, something latches onto Nero and it felt like hands. As he tried to shake off whatever held onto him, the voice slowly became distorted, turning into nothing but gurgling sounds. The feeling of hands groped over him, pulling and tugging itself higher onto Nero's body; its wet gurgles were coming closer, louder, until Nero realized the gruesome noise was directly in his ear.

"...Nero..." Kyrie whispered. Her voice was crystal clear.

 

* * *

 

Nero jolted awake in bed. He stared unblinkingly at the ceiling for a long time. It was still night; and he felt an ache like he had ran a non-stop marathon.

 _Another dream..._ He exhaled a breath he never knew he was holding and pressed a hand to his face in exhaustion. The nightmares – they haunted him. He didn't know why he kept dreaming these things, but he'd never hurt Kyrie.  _Never._

After deciding that he can't go back to sleep, Nero pulled the covers off and got out of bed. He really felt like he needed a distraction at that moment; something –  _anything – t_ o get his mind off of her.

While Nero was heading toward the bathroom, he noticed the office lights were out and saw no sign of Dante. The older man was neither lounging at the desk nor sleeping on the couch. But Nero couldn't care less. In fact, it was preferred. He didn't want Dante hovering over him like last time. It was downright weird; and with the mood that he was currently in, Nero was pretty sure things would turn real ugly – real fast.

Flicking on the bathroom lights, Nero trudged toward the sink and turned the faucet on. He splashed cold water onto his face, trying to wash off the weariness he felt, and ran his clawed hand through his hair to brush away his damp bangs. He looked up into the mirror and studied himself. Nero could see the obvious dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes; his skin pallid from the lack of proper sleep. He knew he looked like shit – felt like shit too, but he didn't want any more sleep.

He didn't want to go  _there_ again. He didn't want to see – or worse,  _do_  the things he did in his nightmares. But when Nero looked at the reflection of his Devil Bringer in the mirror, his eyes hardened and he felt a sudden surge of anger welling up inside him.

Nero remembered now. It was this arm – this  **thing**  – that made him lose everything he had cherished. His home, his family, his life.  _No! I'm not like them. I'm not!_  And he had repeatedly told himself over and over until he started to see red. In his blind rage, Nero stormed out of the bathroom and out the doors of Devil May Cry. Tonight, he was going on an impromptu demon hunt.

 

* * *

 

Dante was down in the basement, sifting through some of his old trophies from decades past. He wanted to clear out the place, but he always kept getting sidetracked from seeing things he'd long forgotten.

"Ha!" He had just found his most prized treasure; it was a magazine and on the cover was his friend, Lady. "Now what are you doing down here..." He was tempted to read through it again, but stuffed the magazine inside his jacket for later.

In actuality, he was down there with all the dirt and dust because he wanted to give Nero his own room and be able to finally relax. He knew the kid had plans to move out once he collected enough money to sustain himself, but Dante noticed that something was wrong and wanted to keep a close eye on him. Ever since Nero entered his office, Dante could tell there were things that the kid concealed from him. He just didn't want to stick his nose into someone else's private life and kept silent for Nero's sake. Of course, he had constantly tried to make jokes, hoping it would lighten the gloomy mood. And it had worked for a bit, but the stick up the kid's ass was lodged in too deep that he couldn't take a joke anymore.

Before Dante's mind could wander further into unknown territory about Nero, he heard the loud slam of a door. Curious about what the noise could be this late into the night, Dante packed one last dusty book into a box, closed it, and pushed the box aside to deal with later; he then proceeded up the stairs to see if anyone came in.

But there was no one inside the office. All of the lights on the first floor were still off and when Dante looked up toward the balcony on the second floor, he saw that only the bathroom lights were left on. Climbing the stairs, he saw that the bathroom was empty and the door leading to his bedroom was slightly ajar. He didn't need to go into the room to tell that Nero was gone, but he went inside anyways. Dante noticed that Nero didn't take any of his belongings. In fact, even his Blue Rose and Red queen were left behind.

It was rare for Dante to feel worried about anything, yet right now, he was very close to feeling it.

 _The kid better not have any crazy ideas._ Then he left the office, hoping that Nero was just going to the store or something. However, his intuition told him that it wasn't going to be the case because Nero seemed to have left in a hurry. If he was lucky enough, which is never, then he may be able to catch up to the kid. Dante knew that Nero usually had a hard time navigating Capulet, so by now, he shouldn't have gotten too far.

The streets were dead quiet at this time of the night. The moon was bright and full; not a single star shone through its illumination. Dante inwardly groaned. Already, his luck wasn't looking so good. In his vast experience as a demon hunter, Dante knew that the full moon attracted demons out into the night, whipping them into a crazed frenzy. Now that he was out in the open, he could feel the effects the moon was having on him. No doubt the kid was also affected, not even knowing his mindset was being influenced by the full moon. It was even worse because Nero wasn't exactly stable right now. Who knew what the kid kept bottled up inside himself?

A hysterical cackle suddenly broke the silence. It sounded close by.

"Oooooh! You think you're some hot shot?!" Shouted a shrill voice. "But look at you! You're like me!" Another round of maddening cackles followed.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

That was Nero's voice. Dante sped up his steps, following the commotion to a public park, and caught sight of a lone figure – well, two. Nero was crouched over a body, violently ripping away at whatever was beneath him with a bestial ferocity.

So much for hoping that Nero went to the store.

The body was nothing but a bleeding carcass now, torn to shreds by Nero's demonic claws. And the kid was still going at it – unrelentingly. Dante decided that now was a good time to step in.

"You can stop." Dante gripped Nero's shoulder firmly and the younger man jerked to a halt. His Devil Bringer poised in mid-air for another strike, heavily dripping a black substance. Nero turned his head slightly to look at the gloved hand on his shoulder, an enigmatic glint in his narrowed eyes.

"Kid, are you-" But Dante didn't get to finish his sentence for Nero had twisted himself out of Dante's grip and plunged his demonic claws straight into Dante with a sickening squelch. Blood splattered over both of them, and Dante saw the look of pure pleasure on Nero's face as his claws sank deeper into his rib cage, forcing through all the flesh and bone. Grunting in pain, Dante grabbed hold of Nero's arm and forcefully pulled it free from his chest, feeling the gush of his life blood streaming down his torso.

"Snap out of it!" And he head-butted Nero, stunning the kid for a moment before he placed some distance between them.

Nero glared maniacally back at Dante – his irises were glowing a bright red. He brought his gory claws up to his lips and lapped at the freshly coated blood. Dante couldn't take his eyes off the suggestive licking, watching as Nero's tongue became slick with crimson.

_That's... kinda hot..._

"Alright, kid." Dante started cracking his knuckles; his healing factor was already kicking in and began repairing the gaping wound on his chest. The full moon definitely made him feel excited tonight. "You wanna play? Fine. Let's do this."

Then Nero grinned widely at Dante; his canines gleamed devilishly in the moonlight. Dante could only imagine the kind of thoughts that must be running through the kid's head because with each passing second, his demonic side was becoming more apparent – possibly close to activating his Devil Trigger.

With a feral snarl, Nero lunged at Dante, who practically twirled away with finesse. Rebounding swiftly, Nero swiped at Dante with his claws but he missed again.

"Too slow.~" Dante sing-songed. He wasn't planning on landing any hits on Nero. The kid was angry as it is, and if he Devil Triggered then it would be a pain in the ass to deal with.

Nero's movements were sluggish and clumsy as he kept trying to catch Dante; his demonic influenced mind was hampering his hand-eye-coordination.

It was like a game of Cat-and-Mouse, only Nero was the real mouse. Dante was leading him away from the park, back toward Devil May Cry, and hoped he could tire the kid out at the same time. They ran through the city streets, the moon lighting their way. Nero was damaging anything that got in his path with reckless abandon while Dante was evading, dodging, and occasionally letting Nero get close enough on purpose to spur the kid into moving forward after him.

_Almost there…_

Dante was waiting for Nero to drop his guard, the perfect opportunity, before he decided to pounce. And when they reached back to the front of his office, Dante wasted no time when he saw the opening. He tackled Nero to the ground, knocking the wind out of the younger man and he struggled fiercely against Dante. He was sprawled on the asphalt and his legs started to kick out wildly at him, but Dante straddled Nero's thighs and pinned his thrashing arms down by his sides. Nero bucked underneath, growling angrily as he attempted to throw Dante off of him. Under any other circumstance, Dante wouldn't really find a situation like this...enticing, but it was the full moon clouding his judgment. Dante controlled his thoughts and focused on trying to calm the kid down. He leaned into Nero's glowering face as he tried to make eye contact.

"Nero."

Hearing his name, the kid turned his head slightly in response; he was still breathing hard, his arms trying to tug free as his legs scraped against the concrete.

"Look at me."

Vermillion red met crystalline blue.

His breath hitched in wonder as he stared down at Nero beneath, who was now looking up at him in confusion.

"Dante...?"

The red glow in the kid's eyes were dimming, only tinting his normally azure irises around the rims. His eyes trailed downwards – to the torn and bloodied front of Dante's chest. "I did that." He knitted his brow as he looked to be piecing together thoughts inside his head.

"Calmed down now?" Dante wasn't releasing the kid until otherwise. Blood still caked Nero's face as he nodded his head. He looked remorseful, avoiding Dante's scrutinizing gaze.

Dante climbed off of Nero and stood up. After he brushed himself off, he offered Nero a hand. Nero sheepishly took the proffered hand and pulled himself up to his feet.

"Get inside." It was a command. They needed to get out of the moonlight and Dante was determined to get some answers – he deserved that much at least. He knew something bothered the kid, but he didn't think Nero was under stress this extreme. Dante always trusted his instincts, so wanting to keep an eye on the kid was a good call.

Once inside, Dante closed the doors and locked it. He turned around to see Nero looking withdrawn; his head was down, shoulders hunched, and lips pursed in unease. Dante dropped himself onto the couch, releasing a sigh as he sank into the cushions. He was waiting.

"Sorry."

Not really what Dante wanted to hear. He didn't care that Nero impaled him with his Devil Bringer. No. He wanted to hear the truth. So he smiled up at Nero. He didn't say anything – just waited; his lazy smile plastered on his face.

The kid was starting to feel the pressure now when his eyes went downcast as he started rubbing the back of his neck. "I…" Nero paused, gathering his thoughts; his feet shuffled from one foot to the other. He looked to be struggling with what he wanted to say. Like he couldn't get it out.

Dante softened at this – but only a little. "It's alright. I'm not mad." He said, hoping it would help.

"I hurt you." Nero's voice held a slight shake, but Dante thought it was just nervousness.

"It only stung a bit." Dante casually picked at the ripped fabric of his undershirt. He was going to need a new one.  _And send my jacket to a tailor._

"I lost control. And I- if it was Kyrie, I'd have-…"

Now  _that_ got Dante's attention. So did Kyrie have something to do with why the kid left Fortuna?

"Do you want to go back?" Dante prodded, carefully watching his words.

"What?" Nero laughed – not a hint of mirth in his laughter. "Look at me!" He opened his arms to gesture at himself. "I got mad. Went berserk. And now I'm covered in blood! Worse part is – I liked it. I  _fucking_  liked it. You think I can go back there like this?  **I'm a demon.** " He finished ruefully, voice faltering on the last line.

It was the most Dante had ever heard Nero talk and he understood now. He really did, but anything he'd say would only sound like hollow advice. Dante didn't need to question any further. Besides, the kid had suffered enough and now he knew why. Maybe it's about time he told Nero what he had planned for him in the basement.

"Listen..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I'm vague about character thoughts/actions. I want readers to interpret things their own way. At least... I think I'm being vague. So I like it when readers speculate.


	5. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liek eet wen things git psycho logical, yet I know my writing style is sucky.

"Listen..." Dante started, "Go get yourself cleaned up. We'll talk later alright?"

Nero looked down at himself. His jacket was drenched in... He didn't want to think about it. Without saying another word, Nero went up the stairs and locked himself in the bathroom; one by one he peeled off his clothes, making his way to the ceramic tub. He ran the faucet on and waited for the water to warm up.

His face felt tight... and dry. He rubbed at his cheeks, feeling the skin flake off. But it wasn't his skin. In his palm were crusted bits of blood.

Nero felt sick with himself.

He couldn't believe he had actually done the things he did. He remembered storming out of the office, looking for a fight, and he didn't have to look far; Capulet was a dangerous city at night. So when he found the fight he was looking for, a scapegoat to vent his frustrations on, he had completely lost it. He could still feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins when he held the demon down, ripping off its face as the damn thing kept laughing at him – mocking him – and that was when he blacked out. The only thing he remembered most vividly was when he –  _When Dante..._ His Devil Bringer twitched in response to the memory. It was so vivid that Nero swore he could taste the blood on his tongue. Anything after that moment – after plunging his claws straight through Dante – Nero couldn't recall; he just knew that he's never enjoyed anything like it.

Trembling, Nero didn't know whether it's from the chilly air or the horrific event, he quickly got inside the tub and turned on the shower. A hot spray washed over him and Nero vigorously rubbed the sickly substance off his face, feeling it become slick over his skin. His stomach coiled with disgust as the water at his feet spiraled down the drain; the dark red was gradually diluting to a pinkish color as it washed off.

A choked sob forced itself out and Nero didn't bother to restrain himself for once. He cried. He cried for the death of his best friend, for the girl he cared about, for being abnormal, and for losing the little humanity he had left in him. Like a festering wound, everything he had kept bottled inside since the savior incident, trivial or significant, had grown more painful – to the point of breakage. He let it all out. No one could see him in this saddened state anyways and he was grateful Dante gave him some time for himself. It almost felt as if the older man had known.

Nero remained under the cleansing spray for a while, the steam filling up the small bathroom, until his cries died down. So as he forcefully smothered the last of his grief, he felt exactly like what Dante always called him, a kid, and he wondered if Dante ever had to cry.

The faucet handle squeaked closed as he turned off the shower and stepped out. Nero grabbed a towel hanging from its rack; he dried himself off, wrapped the towel around his waist, and walked over to the mirror. He wiped away the misted surface and examined his reflection once again. His deep blue eyes stared back at him; they were still bloodshot with dark circles beneath, but this time, even though he still looked like a miserable son-of-a-bitch, he strangely felt more alert, calmer. He picked his soiled clothes off the tiled floor and left the bathroom.

He chanced a glance beyond the balcony that overlooked the first floor and saw Dante still resting on the couch. He hoped the old man's keen hearing didn't pick up his pathetic crying. While he kept his head down, Nero hurried to his temporary room and shut the door quietly behind him once he was inside.

Nero tossed his blood-soaked clothes aside, missing the laundry basket in the corner, and went over to where his backpack was beside table drawer. He unzipped his bag and started rummaging inside. He noticed with disdain that he was running short of clothes. Since he had packed light, all he had left was a pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt.

As he pulled out his last remaining set of clean clothes, Nero heard the distinct sound of the stairs creaking. Dante was coming up. Nero hastily dressed himself, yet the sound of footsteps continued on past the bedroom and into the bathroom next door. A few minutes later, the shower was turned on.

Dante had told him that they were going to talk later, but Nero felt the urge to make a run for it. Now was his chance to leave while Dante was showering. So he began packing away his things, gathering what little he had brought with him from Fortuna, and stuffed them all into his one backpack. Nero knew he was just running away again, but he didn't want a repeat of tonight's incident. He had always known that he was nothing but a burden since the day he was born – left on the door steps of Credo and Kyrie's home; abandoned by his own parents, Nero was an unwanted child. It wasn't hard to imagine that he's also been a burden to the older man, but Dante was just too nice to say anything.

_He probably wants me gone now._

Nero paused in the midst of his packing to stare out the window. It was opened wide, a slight chill breezing in, and he could see the moon beginning its slow descent in the darkened navy sky; the skies were clear with no clouds obstructing the moon's silver-white luminance. A strange tingling sensation crept up his body making him shiver in the cool draft, goose-bumps forming along the length of his arm. While he was examining his arm wondering why he felt the weird sensation, Nero noticed a strip of fabric snagged between the scales of his Devil Bringer. He pulled it out and realized that it was a piece of Dante's trench coat; it was physical proof that he injured the older man. He regarded the pitiful sight of it in his hands silently feeling dejected. Pretty soon, he'll be kicked out. He's already overstayed his welcome, hadn't he? Not to mention his ungrateful display of gratitude.

As he enclosed his fingers around the torn cloth, Nero thought back on his fleeting time at the office; he wished he didn't have to leave. Here at Devil May Cry, demon hunting with Dante, Nero felt-... It was the closest place where Nero felt like he belonged. Dante was another half demon like him. He had never enjoyed working with others; he had always preferred to go solo on missions. Yet being around the older man... had been fun. Even his times growing up with Credo had never felt like the few hunts he had gone on with Dante. But now he had to go and ruin that too.

Nero stood in front of the open window, holding the little piece of proof in his hand, and was struck with indecision. Should he run and try to eke out a living in solitude or stay and wait for Dante to choose for him. Nero couldn't believe that he was having such a difficult time when he knew what the obvious choice was; the self-sufficient choice he usually picked without a second thought. But the prospect of being alone in the world caused him to hesitate in his decision.

Where had his sense of pride gone?

The sound of the shower ceased. Nero's time to make a decision was running out.

Run? Or stay?

Solitude? Or dependency?

Neither seemed appealing to Nero.

The pitter-patters of footsteps were approaching the bedroom, so Nero pocketed the torn fabric into his jeans and faced the door.

In came Dante, fresh out of the shower, clad in only his tight red denim. The older man was still drying his hair with his towel as he entered and Nero couldn't help but notice how Dante's muscles rippled with every movement of his arms, accentuated with water droplets that dripped from his silver locks and cascaded down his well-built torso. Nero's eyes inevitably followed the droplets' movement down to the hem of his unbuttoned jeans and he suddenly felt self-conscious about his own body, wondering if he would ever be as defined as the older man's.

_Not like it matters. I won't see him again._ Even if there was no scar on his chest and nothing but a pink color where the wound should be, Nero didn't forget about what he did to Dante. He looked away, choosing to stare back out the window; the full moon was now partially hidden behind the towering skyscrapers and lights were randomly blinking on and off at different levels of the buildings.

Dante sighed loudly in content, draping the towel around his neck. "Aren't hot showers relaxing?" Nero could feel the older man's attention fixate on him. "You're going somewhere?" No doubt Dante had noticed his meager belongings gathered at the bedside.

"Leaving." He had made his choice. Since he didn't want to hear Dante tell him to leave, he'll just do it himself. It's easier that way. Nero walked toward the bed and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. Dante stayed silent as he watched Nero collect his weapons. However, when Nero tried to walk past Dante, the older man barred the doorway using his arm.

A small flicker of hope started to grow inside Nero, but he masked it behind an annoyed scowl. "Get out of my way."

"Right after what happened? You're not going anywhere."

"I'm fine."

"Like all the other times you told me so?"

"Fuck off." Nero shoved away the arm that obstructed his path, but Dante quickly reached out and grabbed Nero by the collar of his jacket, tugging him intimidatingly close.

"Hell no." The tone in Dante's voice left no room for argument as he glared sternly at Nero. Contrary to his earlier protests, Nero didn't resist when the older man gently pushed him backwards into the room. "You're staying put, kid."

Nero scoffed at the older man, avoiding eye contact. However, a sense of relief poured into him now. It was exactly what he wanted to hear – the old man was telling him not to go. Yet he hated it. He hated the fact that he's become dependent on Dante's kindness. It felt like an empty victory to Nero. Ever since he came around Dante, he grew to rely on the old man more and more. Maybe even too much. Yet Nero knew that if he really wanted to leave, then he would have left a long time ago.

"Kid, if you want to... you can live here." Dante suddenly told him. "I won't charge you. Maybe."

There he goes again with that weird kindness. Nero didn't get it – didn't understand why Dante would keep trying to help him.

"I was planning on telling you later – after I had things set up." He continued, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. "But you were about ready to bolt."

Nero hadn't said anything as he stood there listening to Dante. He honestly expected the old man to toss him out the first chance he got, not offer him a permanent place to stay. He sure as Hell doesn't deserve it.

Nero asked the single question that should have been bugging him since day one.

"Why?"

"We make great partners." Dante joked easily; again, he was trying to lighten the mood, but Nero ignored it.

" _Why._ " Nero insisted.

Dante became quiet, seeing the seriousness on Nero's face. All signs of banter left the older man's demeanor as he replied, "... You remind me of someone." It was all the older man would say, even as Nero stared at him, waiting for him to speak again. But Dante didn't and Nero had no choice but to accept his answer.

"Take your room back." Nero said, brushing past Dante. He wasn't going to leave, but he'd rather not occupy the older man's room any longer.

"Just don't run off raging during a full moon again, kid." He heard Dante call after. The old man was already back to making fun of him and Nero was grateful for the small sense of normalcy it provided, even if he didn't quite understand the joke.

Downstairs, Nero decided to leave his Red Queen on the weapon rack, placing it beside Dante's Rebellion. He admired the sleek design of the sword and remembered the time when he had used it against Dante. After an onslaught of his demonic punches, he had hurled Dante into a statue and speared Rebellion right through the older man to pin him where he collided. He thought he came out victorious, but Dante was always one step ahead. Dante simply pushed himself off from where he was stuck and extracted the blade from his chest like it was nothing. It had both irritated and astounded Nero to see that his attacks were easily being brushed off; yet it was also an unforgettable moment for him. That was the first time they had ever fought, back when he thought they were enemies. Strange that he's now living with the old man.

Nero dumped his bag onto the wooden floor near the couch and examined the worn-out furniture; black was a great camouflage for blood, but Nero could still see traces of it staining the leather. He headed into the kitchen to look for something to wipe off the couch and found a rag by the sink. It was dirty and musty; the brown stains on it indicated that it's been used to clean up blood before. He soaked the rag under tap water, its foul smell getting stronger briefly, before he wringed it out and returned back to the couch.

The stains were already dry, so Nero had to give it a little elbow-grease to wipe them cleanly off.

"You really like to clean, kid."

Nero looked up from the couch to see Dante leaning over the balcony, peering down at him with a slight smile on his lips. He was properly dressed now and wore a black button-up shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"It was dirty." Nero replied. Then he returned to the kitchen and threw the rag into the sink. While he was washing his hands, he heard Dante coming down, the rickety stairs creaking with every step.

Nero walked back into the office to see Dante making himself comfy at his desk; feet propped up on the desktop as he lazily opened a magazine. The woman on the cover looked familiar to him, but he didn't bother to look closer and goes to sit quietly on the couch.

"My bed is free if you need to sleep." Dante offered from behind his magazine, flipping through another page.

"No thanks." Nero didn't want to go back to sleep. He was still afraid – afraid to dream again. No matter how exhausted he felt, Nero couldn't go to sleep – he just wouldn't. It was then that he wished he had never left his headphones behind; he would always resort to blasting music from his mp3 player whenever he had difficult thoughts on his mind – when he simply wanted to forget about the hard things for a little while.

He didn't realize he had been staring off into space, tapping his fingers against his knee to an unheard beat, until Dante stood at the pool table and started gathering the pool balls into a triangular rack.

"Up for a game then?" Dante asked. He finished setting up the table and was holding out one of the cue sticks for Nero.

"...Sure." It was better than sitting around doing nothing and trying to ward off sleep. So he took the cue stick from Dante and the two flip a coin to see who goes first. Dante chose heads; it landed on tails.

"Heh. Looks like you get to go first, kid."

Nero chalked the tip of his cue stick and positioned himself for the first shot. He shot the cue ball and broke apart the pool balls, scattering them in different directions across the table top. Unfortunately for him, none of the balls got pocketed and it became Dante's turn.

"If I win, you have to tell me what's on your mind." Dante casually joked as he chalked his own cue stick, but behind his playful bet, Nero could tell that the old man meant what he said.

"Then if I win..." Nero thought half-heartedly on it. "You have to buy me a can of soda."

"Really?" Dante said incredulously. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Deal." And with that, Dante sank the first ball; a solid.

He winked at Nero and went again since he pocketed a ball. Leaning down, he balanced the cue stick by resting it between his fingers, fine tuning his accuracy with concentration; the tip of the cue stick inched toward the white ball, then back away. He was aiming for a blue solid that sat precariously at the edge of one of the corner holes. Then he made his shot; the cue ball raced to the stationary target and they collide with a clack; the blue ball ricocheted into the hole and the cue ball rolled in the opposite direction.

A cocky smirk made its way onto Dante's features as the older man moved into a new position beside Nero, nudging him aside rather tauntingly. The blatant challenge kicked Nero out of his impassiveness and he suddenly wanted to beat the smug look off the old man's face.

As if he was mocking Nero, Dante seemed to have purposely missed his next shot; the white ball rolled past between a pair of solids and allowed for Nero to have a turn now.

"Tch." Nero moved to a better vantage point, away from Dante, and went eye level with the cue ball. The older man already had two scores above him, but Nero was confident he'll catch up and win the game. He thrust the stick forward, propelling the cue into a stripped ball. The shot landed and the striped ball bumped into a rail and bounced off. The two watched as the ball rolled, and kept rolling, gradually losing its momentum, before it fell right into the pocket at the center of the left longer side cushion – on the opposite side of where it had hit the rail.

_Easy._ Nero was showing off and he returned a smirk back at Dante.

The game continued on in that simple fashion, switching turns if the other didn't pocket their assigned object ball. Still, Dante had maintained the lead, pocketing nearly all his numbered balls. He was down to the last ball now: the black 8 ball. Nero only had two more to go, but it was Dante's turn.

"Good game, kid." Dante praised Nero. Even though his words were said without a teasing tone, Nero was still irked by the fact that he was going to lose.

But by pure unfortunate luck, Dante's hand slipped in his aim, sending the cue ball straight into a pocket without even grazing the 8 ball.

8 ball scratch. Nero won.

Nero watched Dante blink in disbelief and found the older man's dumbfounded expression to be very amusing. A small chuckle managed to escape his lips and Nero cleared his throat in embarrassment, rubbing at his nose. To laugh in the face of an opponent's defeat was disgraceful. But still…

"I can't even win a bet against you?" Dante dropped his stick and threw his arms up in mock anger.

"Maybe you shouldn't be betting then." Nero leaned his cue stick against the side of the pool table.

"How about another game?" Dante asked, pulling out the triangular rack.

"I don't mind..." Nero sat down on the couch as Dante started collecting the pool balls from the pockets. Sunlight was slowly seeping into the office, its bright rays casting a balmy orange glow throughout the place. The warmth of the sunlight radiated onto him and Nero felt his eyelids grow heavy as his body relaxed under the cozy temperature. He heard the soft patter of someone walking away.

Unexpectedly, he vaguely recalled the piece of fabric he kept inside his pocket. He wanted to thank Dante, for not giving up on him, but all that came out of his mouth was a yawn. Sleep was coming and Nero didn't have the energy to fight it. His brow knitted in a struggled effort to keep himself from falling asleep, but his efforts were wasted.

Exhaustion finally won out and before Nero could let himself drift off, he made a promise to himself.

Soon after, he fell into a deep and blissful slumber; free of night terrors for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone got any tips on improvement for me? I really think I'm lacking in something. I may be writing this for fun, but I want to at least make it decent and readable story. AM I NONSENSICAL? LOL


	6. Say What?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I've been drawing for every other chapter. o: Wonder how long that'll last haha

There was a sweet smell around him, seemingly encasing him in warmth. And it felt familiar – felt comforting. Nero stirred awake and squinted against the soft light of the mid-day sun that was streaming in through the windows. He rubbed at his eyes and looked around groggily, still feeling disoriented from waking up. He had fallen asleep on the couch – and what a  _comfortable_  couch it was in all its lumpy glory.

After propping himself up on his elbows, he felt the quilt slipping from his chest to bunch up around his abdomen and noticed the subtle scent of strawberries tickling his nose. He looked down at the royal blue quilt that covered him; it was the same quilt Dante used whenever he slept on the couch.

Dante must have given him this quilt while he was asleep.

_That old man..._

Nero knew he was being babied, but he had actually slept well and Dante was to thank for that; he had done a lot for him already. No matter how much the older man tried to downplay it by being a jerk, he was nice – in that asshole kind of nice. Dante had even stayed up with Nero to challenge him to a game of Billiards. Nero smiled at the memory of Dante losing the bet and regretted that he didn't think of a better reward; it might have been a sight to behold to make Dante get on his knees and call him "Master" instead of the childish nickname he got stuck with.

Speaking of the old man, he wasn't in the office – or at least not on the first floor. After stretching leisurely, his back arching off the leather cushions, Nero got up and steadily rose to his feet; vertigo overcame him and he tried to focus on his balance as he wobbled to the kitchen. He scratched his head in a half-daze, ruffling his already mussed up hair, and went to wash up in the sink; he splashed the cool water onto his face and it fully roused him from his lethargy. After turning off the tap, Nero braced himself against the counter and stared into the metal basin, watching the water droplets fall from his face and bangs. Despite his distorted image being reflected back from the grimy, metallic surface, Nero felt level headed - he felt refreshed - at least for the most part. Who knew when he would have to deal with his reoccurring nightmares again? But was venting it out of his system all that he needed or… was it because Dante – with his laid-back attitude and playful antics – had finally gotten through to him?

He recalled the little piece of Dante's trench coat tucked away in his jean pocket. The old man really was growing on him.

After he shook his head clear, making water droplets fly off in random directions, Nero pushed away from the sink and headed back into the office. Since he didn't see the old man around, he wondered about what to do. More than anything, he hated not having something to keep himself busy. He looked at the old-fashioned rotary phone on Dante's desk, silently wishing for it to ring.

Today felt like it was going to be a slow day and waiting around doing nothing wasn't going to make the phone miraculously ring; so Nero fell back into his habit of cleaning. When he gets paid, he was going out to buy himself some new clothes – and an mp3 player.  _Yeah, with a nice pair of headphones too._

Not much cleaning was left for Nero to do since he did a thorough job of keeping Dante from littering wherever he damn well pleased. After he folded the discarded quilt neatly into a square, he decided to peruse the magazine on Dante's desk; now he was able to get a good look at the cover and he saw that it was the dark-haired woman whom he had recently met.  _The lady with the sunglasses._

The strumming of a guitar perked Nero's attention away from the magazine.

Nero looked back to the jukebox in the corner but it wasn't on. It was coming from a door by the stairs, the start of a song flowing through the open crack. Curious, he decided to go investigate. The door revealed another set of stairs leading down to the basement and it was where Nero found the old man. He was sitting on a stack of boxes with a guitar of peculiar design in hand. Nero remained silent and listened to the catchy song; Dante's eyes were closed as his fingers on one hand moved deftly over the strings while the other hand rhythmically strummed out notes. The tune he was playing was a pleasing sound to Nero's ears and he found himself respecting Dante's skill with the stringed instrument.

The older man leaned forward, one foot tapping a beat while he slightly bobbed his head, and his expression was etched in deep concentration as he lost himself to the melody he created; he was thrumming a fast-paced riff, fingers becoming a blur of motion, and he's hitting every single note as the stream of music rose into crescendo. Nero's eyes were glued to the impressive spectacle as he continued to watch; the sight of Dante utterly entranced him and his heart felt like it was strings being plucked by the skillful musician. He always had a thing for live music. However, the bittersweet memories of attending Kyrie's concerts reemerged and dampened his enjoyment.

In the midst of Dante's guitar solo, a bat fluttered over to Nero, flapping around his head before Nero held up his arm for it to perch on. It gave a small squeak, lifting up and spreading its wings to the rhythm of the near-hypnotic melody. The small creature looked as if it was smiling up at him, its little white fangs peeking out from its mouth innocently. Without warning, the bat bit his finger, digging its pointed teeth into his flesh and drawing blood.

"Little shit!" Nero growled at the bat in annoyance and it disappeared in a puff of swirling black smoke before Nero could get his hands on the tiny creature.

"Aww... I think Nevan likes you." Dante had stopped playing and was smiling at him with laughter in his eyes.

"Who?" Nero proceeded to suck the blood off his fingertip. He caught Dante's lingering stare on his lips but thought nothing of it, figuring it was only because he looked childish for suckling on such a tiny wound.

Dante shifted his gaze back to the guitar and patted its handle. "This is Nevan. A conniving blood-sucker, but she plays some pretty sweet notes." Almost in response, an electric spark spiraled up the instrument and shocked Dante's hand. He yelped in surprise, shaking his hand to ebb the pain. "See what I mean?" he pouted at it and then got up to place the guitar back in its stand beside a well-kept drum set.

"You learned to play the guitar?" Nero was starting to see Dante in a new light – that he wasn't just a dim-witted skirt chaser.

"Nope. I was born with the talent." To anyone else, it would've looked like the old man was just bragging, but Nero could tell he was just stating a fact – even if he still sounded like an arrogant bastard. Though Nero had to admit, he enjoyed Dante's jam session and it's been a while since he heard something other than crappy oldies tunes. The jukebox only seemed to belt out the lamest of music and not one was to his tastes.

"So what are you doing down here?" Nero asked, looking around the shoddy and cluttered basement. He thought the office was in bad shape, but he hadn't seen the state of the lower floor. Skulls of various demons lined the walls, and weapons – or so-called devil arms like Nevan – were haphazardly strewn about, some laid on the floor while others were used to keep the skulls in place. Complementing the trophy heads were draperies of giant cobwebs that clung from the wooden ceiling beams and floated like wisps in the drafty air of the basement. The only ordinary looking things down there were vials of multiple colors collecting dust on some ratty shelf. The spider-infested basement, with all its morbid decor and oddities, made upstairs look like a welcoming family home.

"I'm clearing out some things." Dante said as he picked up the box he had sat on. "This is going to be your room."

"Here?" Normally, Nero wasn't one to be picky, but he still didn't like the idea that he'll be sleeping in such a dank and decrepit space.

"Don't worry, kid. I'll replace the scary heads with stuffed animals."

"Ha. Ha." Nero deadpanned. Guess it was better than nothing and he'll at least get some privacy – taking into consideration that the Demon skulls stayed dead. The numerous pairs of eyes unsettled him and he was reminded of how his dreams felt like; every move he made was tracked – like he was being hunted endlessly. He'll be fine, Nero told himself, willing it to be true. "What do you want me to move?"

"Grab those potions over there- but be careful not to drop them."

Nero did as the older man said; after gathering the vials into his arms, he followed Dante into another section of the basement. It wasn't all that big down here – just two areas; Nero assumed the front will be his room and the back would have every demonic trinket that Dante owned shoved inside.

"You sure everything's going to fit in here?" The further in they went, the darker it got; Nero observed the yellowed fluorescent light bulb flickering unreliably overhead. Thing looked as if it'd shut off any second.

"Ye- Hey! Watch it!"

But the warning came too late. Nero had paid too much attention to the aged light bulb that one of the potions slipped from his arms. So as Nero tried to maneuver himself to catch it – legs bending, hand reaching out – another tumbled down in the confusion. The glass vials shattered on the ground, shards scattering outwards from the point of impact, and a cloud of blue billowed into his face as the yellow and green liquids diffused into each other. Surprisingly, the smoke doesn't choke him, but Nero blanched at the mess he created and looked to Dante, hoping to whatever God out there that the potions weren't anything valuable.

"Kid..." Dante started.

He swallowed in nervousness as Dante put down the box he carried and began approaching him. Slowly.

"Say something."

Was the old man going to pummel him after an apology? But he didn't really look mad at all.

"Lli yap rof ti."  _Huh? Was that my-?_

Then Dante's eyes went wide and he burst out laughing. "So they actually work!"

"Tahw era uoy gniklat tuoba?!"

"Ha! I don't know what you're saying!" The older man laughed, his incessant guffaws quickly grating on Nero's dwindling nerves.

So it looked like these potions change the way someone speaks. Nero picked a random vial and examined the brightly glowing liquid inside. He tossed the potion in the air and then caught it. Dante stopped laughing to stare at Nero playing catch with it.

"Let's not get hasty here, kid..." Dante was holding out his hands in a placating manner.

In his arms, Nero held an arsenal of weapons at his disposal, and if he had the right mind to, he could easily chuck one at the old man and see what language he'd start yapping. He wound his arm back, gearing up for a throw.

"Alright, alright! I'll fix you! Just give me the damn potions!"

_That's better._

Nero handed over the colorful vials without any fuss and Dante stored them in one of the numerous cardboard boxes for safekeeping –  _Dante’s_ definition of 'organized safekeeping' it seemed. Then he turned around and faced Nero with a rather amused look on his face, and a feeling of apprehension settled in Nero's gut.

"You know I'll have to kiss you."

A series of processes began to affect Nero: First, his mind jarred to a halt. Next, all color drained from his face when a connection mentally clicked. And once Dante's simple solution finally sank in, the heat came back into his face – flared back actually.

"Ouy nac ssik ym ssa!" Nero shouted in vehemence, red-faced with words spewing incoherently from his lips, but the meaning came through: No way was he allowing the old man to touch him.

"Relax, kid. I won't go past first base."

"..." Not helping. If Dante didn't shut up within the next second, Nero swore he was going to end up bashing the lying moron's teeth in. Dante  _had_  to be lying. Goose-bumps broke out all over Nero when he saw Dante closing the distance between them. He jerked backwards, Devil Bringer balling into a fist and wanting to lash out. It took a lot of effort for Nero to keep a tight reign over his emotions. But he managed. By a fraction.

"Don't be shy,  _baby._ " The last word was drawled out in a condescending manner.

So now he was downgraded to an infant. He narrowed his eyes at Dante, who looked to be enjoying this a little too much for Nero's comfort; his trademark smirk made him appear shamelessly unabashed. He was only an arm's length away now, and it was deep in Nero's personal bubble by his standards.

That would also be as far as Dante could go because Nero firmly planted his hand over Dante's grinning face, feeling a muffled grunt reverberating against his palm, and he  _shoved_  the older man away with more force than was necessary. Then he turned tail and all but ran away; he fled the back room, sped through his soon-to-be-bedroom, and vaulted up the stairs two steps at a time. Behind, he could hear the old man's annoying laughter resounding.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he was greeted by the sight of Lady standing in the office.

"There you are, brat." Lady said, turning her full attention on him. She wore a sleek black suit, and despite it's conservative style, the suit hugged her body at all the right curves, accentuating her trim figure. Her head turned slightly, gaze hard to discern behind her dark frames, as Dante followed Nero up the stairs.

_Brat?_  Nero didn't get much of a first impression of her, but did he do something to offend her or was she normally this abrasive with people? Whatever. Maybe she'd still help him. He started pointing at his mouth. When that didn't get a reaction out of her, Nero gestured for her to come over to him.

She didn't move. She just stood where she was and stared at him like he was an idiot.

"Nmad ti ydal!"

An eyebrow visibly arched from behind her glasses after she heard his gibberish.

"Don't listen to the kid, he's talking nonsense." Dante said, patting Nero's head and ruffling his hair. Nero ducked out of his touch and moved to the side to distance himself from the older man. "He dropped a couple of those potions you had me hold for you."

Lady's head tilted up in understanding, and from that angle, Nero could see her eyes glancing towards him. "So he thought I could-"

"Cure him. Yup."

"You know it'll-"

"I know. I know."

_Why_ the  _hell_  does the old man keep interrupting her? Did she know another way to get him back to normal?

Then they both looked to Nero.

"Sorry. You're on your own, brat." Lady shrugged her shoulders and casually strode over to Dante's desk. On it was a silver briefcase. "I'm just here to give you both your cut." She opened the briefcase and inside it was a staggering amount of triple digit bills, all was neatly ordered by one another and filled the whole case to the brim. Nero had never seen that much money outside of movies, and for a moment, he just stared in mild shock. She grabbed three wads and tossed them; one for Dante and two for Nero.

For stacks of paper, the money felt heavy to Nero. It was a  _lot_  of money. Well, they had cleared up a wealthy dead man's mansion. The deceased owner must have had even wealthier relatives to hire them for their 'investigation' services. He awkwardly pocketed the huge sum of money, making sure it wasn't in the same pocket as the red fabric.

"What gives?" Dante complained, looking at the cash in his hand.

"I took a percentage of your pay." Lady shut the briefcase and it clicked closed.

"But didn't you go shopping with Trish?" Dante looked her up and down, not bothering to hide his perverse glance at her covered chest. Her outfit definitely looked new, clean-cut, and expensive now that Nero was looking closely – minus the perverted stare.

"Those potions aren't cheap, Dante."

"Augh! Then take it from the kid!"

Her rosy lips curled up into a devious smile then and it gave Nero the feeling that she liked toying with the older man. Yet as quickly as it had came, the smile disappeared and she lifted the briefcase off the desk. Nero thought she would go straight to the door, but she made a detour to the pool table. And to his surprise, there was a giant bazooka laying on the felt top. Lady hauled the massive weapon with startling ease. "I'll come back when I got another job for you."

Don't let her dainty appearance fool you, Nero thought to himself as he watched the dark haired woman strut out the double doors, toting her bazooka in one hand and the briefcase in the other.

"That woman will bleed me dry." Dante muttered, but he never took his eyes off of Lady's ass until the doors closed behind her.

_That's because you easily get distracted around women. – Wait._  Nero had almost forgotten about his own current problem.

"Ydal!" But the sound of revving drowned out his voice. Nero dashed to the entrance and burst through the doors hoping he'd catch up in time, but it was too late; Lady had already sped off on her motorcycle and he was left standing in the haze of exhaust fumes.

"I'll wait until you're ready." Dante spoke up from behind him. Nero could almost  _hear_  the stupid smile in his voice...

Nero walked away from the office in his foul mood. Now that he got paid, he might as well go shopping himself. He'll deal with the headache later.

But it followed him.

"Take the car." Something jingled in the air.

Nero turned around in time to catch the keys thrown over to him. He looked at the car keys in his claws quizzically and then up at Dante.

"You'll get pick-pocketed if people see you with that much money, kid. Come on." He tilted his head in the direction of where his car was parked in front of their building.

_Well... since I'm driving..._

They got in Dante's shiny red convertible. For a man who was always in debt, Dante sure knew how to take good care of his car. Neither bothered to put on their seat belts as Nero started up the convertible. The engine purred into life and Nero twisted in his seat to look rearwards while he reversed the vehicle. He turned the steering wheel back into neutral position and gradually stepped on the gas. He hadn't driven in a while and it felt a little good to be in control of something for once. Nero had no definite destination in mind, but going on a joy ride sounded tempting even if he wasn't all that familiar with Capulet still. Of course, if he saw a clothing store, he would stop to look. Clothes were becoming a necessity.

The streets weren't so busy today, but there were plenty of people milling about the sidewalks. The afternoon sun blazed overhead and it was a nice day to be out. In spite of the odor of Capulet's polluted air, Nero wanted to take a small moment for himself and enjoy the feel of wind blowing through his hair. Out of his peripheral, Nero saw Dante fumbling around with the car's radio, scanning for stations of interest. Dante passed a particular song that Nero liked the sound of. Nero opened his mouth with the start of a sentence forming on his tongue, but then remembered that he couldn't exactly speak at the moment. So while keeping his eyes on the road, he reached over, moved Dante's hand aside, and used one clawed finger to return to the previous station. He never got to enjoy his song because Dante made a sound like he had been affronted and pushed the forward button. Nero peered at the older man out of the corner of his vision and cheekily pushed back. Dante pushed forward, their childish rivalry continuing.

Back. Forward. Ba-

A blaring horn honked at them and they cease their petty squabbling – a truck was speeding towards their way. The truck's horn frantically grew louder as it sounded out repeatedly, each honk becoming more urgent than the last. Dante braced himself. In quick succession, Nero released the gas pedal and swerved to the right before he hastily stepped on the breaks, bringing the car to a careening halt as their bodies lurched then snapped backward into their cushioned seats. Nero looked over to Dante, who in turn looked back at him. Neither wore their seat belts, so it was a miracle no one flew out. They'd still survive, but it would be a strange sight if either one of them did fly out of their seat and got up without a single scratch.

The truck had screeched to a complete stop and its gigantic tires had created large skid marks on the road. And out came a stocky man who was purple with anger, his veins were practically throbbing on his sweaty bald head as he stomped over to the two. He was shouting obscenities at Nero, drawing even more attention of various passers-by, many of whom had stopped to watch the scene unfold before them. Unconsciously, Nero dropped his clawed hand from the steering wheel. The screaming man was at the car door now, spittle flying from his mouth as he continued to rage. Neither Dante nor Nero wanted to cause a scene as they sat in their seats peaceably. Although Nero was getting riled up from all the man's ranting, he forced himself to stay stock-still, concealing his demonic arm as best as he could by bunching it close to his side and angling his body away from the man's view.

He wished the guy would. Just. Shut. Up.

But the short, angry man didn't. He yanked Nero by the collar of his shirt – as if yelling wasn't enough that he needed to get physical. Nero heard Dante shift beside him from seeing the uncalled contact, but he said nothing. A crowd had gathered at the edges of the street now; nervous tension filled the air as everyone watched from a distance. Hands went over mouths, failing to hide the movements of lips, as each began whispering furtively to one another. The more the man kept shouting in his face, the more Nero felt his Devil Bringer growing hotter.

"Careful..." Dante said just loud enough for only Nero's keen ears to catch.

The keepsake in his pocket came to mind then and he remembered the vivid moment of claws digging into flesh. He couldn't let it happen again. He had made a promise – a promise to not let his inner demons take control. He must repress his violent impulses.  _Repress it._

Don't hit the man. Don't hurt the man. Don't  _kill_  the man.

Nero felt his demonic arm lose its searing burn from the repeated mantra inside his head, and it cooled off to a low hum of vibration. He was still pissed off, but he no longer felt a driving need to maim the man. He only wanted beat the idiot into a senseless mess now – a slight improvement.

It took a while, but after the man lost his rage goggles, he noticed that something was odd about Nero's right arm. His face went pale as he released his hold. Nero knew the look in the man's eyes all too well.

_'He's not human.'_

No one besides Nero, and most likely Dante, would know why the man ran back to his truck in a hurry.

Nero revved the engine back into life and peeled down the street. The radio stayed off.

 

* * *

 

After the scene, Nero had driven non-stop; he didn't care where he went, what turns he took, or how many times he passed by the same street. The sun was no longer in the sky, replaced by the waning moon. The freezing wind bit at his skin and whipped his hair as he drove over the speed limits. They had just barely avoided an accident, but Nero just didn't care. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, the grinding of leather audible. He needed to vent and racing recklessly around the city took the edge off his anger.

Eventually, his anger diminished and Nero asked Dante to switch seats with him. He abused the old man's car long enough. Also, he had driven so far that he wouldn't be able to bring them back home to the office. Dante had remained quiet for the whole car ride and he was still mute as he took control of the wheels. But Nero didn't complain about the silence, nor did he pay any attention to where the older man was driving to; his thoughts were focused inwards. The man's reaction to his demonic arm had brought back unpleasant memories of Fortuna. It was why he held onto his anger for so long. But it was out of his system. For now.

Above, the stars twinkled coldly in the inky black sky and Nero felt himself withdrawing, almost desiring the frigid indifference of those very stars.

"I was worried you'd deck baldy back there." Dante said, breaking their silence.

Oh, but he was very close though. As an added afterthought, Nero tersely grunted a response, folding his arms across his chest. Then his eyes flickered over to the older man, whose attention remained fixed ahead.

"Then again, I'd think he'd deserve it." The older man turned his head briefly to give him a smile. "But you were a good boy today."

"Pfft." Nero pointedly looked away.  _What's so good about scaring off a man without doing anything? Actually – a lot of things._ But that didn't mean he liked his demonic arm any better.

The car slowed to a stop. They arrived at that café Nero had stumbled upon when he first came to Capulet.

"Wait here, kid." Dante turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car.

The bells of the entrance jingled as Dante disappeared inside and Nero went back to staring up into the sky. His mind created imaginary lines connecting one star to another. For as long as he could remember, he always loved to gaze up into the night sky. It was a pastime he had enjoyed doing when he was a lot younger. His thoughts trickled off to Kyrie. It was a pastime he had enjoyed with her. The two of them had always sneaked off into the night as kids, and they had made doubly sure her parents and Credo remained unaware of their secret outings. They had a special spot, where the vast sky was unobstructed by the church that dominated Fortuna. It was a small clearing out by a bubbling brook. The two of them had simply sat and stargazed together; Nero remembered how Kyrie's tiny hand would point up and draw pictures for him as they laid on the soft grass. The nights he had shared watching the stars with her were mild and pleasant; the air was balmy from the temperate climate while the wind carried in a refreshing breeze from the nearby stream. It had been perfect. Now, he could only wish to go back to those simpler times, and his mood soured even more as he sat in a car, exposed to the chilly night air.

Nero wondered if Kyrie was looking up at the sky with him. In Capulet, he couldn't see much since the bright city lights blocked out most of the feeble stars. The view would always be better in Fortuna. He thought that she really must be watching the sky too - if she wasn't doing her job as a songstress, that is.

_Her job... Someone must have taken her by now..._  He had been gone for nearly a month now. Not that long. He was sure Kyrie wouldn't find another man that easily.  _Would she?_  Of course a girl like Kyrie would. She was beautiful. Nero felt his heart wrench from thinking about the 'what ifs.' He knew it was going to happen one day. His only solace was that he won't be around to witness it.

The car rocking to one side pulled Nero out of his thoughts. Dante sat down in the driver's seat; a huge smile on his face.

"Sorry it's not soda, but I'll treat you to this instead." He held out a strawberry sundae for Nero.

_The old man remembered the bet?_  Nero took the sundae into his hands; the glass cup cool against his fingers. He thought it was getting a little too cold out for ice cream, but then he saw Dante already digging into his own sundae. The ache in Nero's chest dulled a bit as he stared at the swirl of vanilla ice cream topped with fresh strawberries. Nero almost didn't want to ruin it and let it sit on his lap with the spoon untouched.

"If you don't eat that, I will." Dante half-threatened him.

Nero waved a hand dismissively at the older man and grabbed the spoon. He scooped out one of the strawberries and tasted the delicate tang of the fruit, smoothed over with creamy vanilla. He liked the sweetness of it, savoring its flavor as the ice cream melted on his tongue. The two sat in silence as they ate. It was getting late into the night now; moon high in the sky. City life in Capulet never fully died down. It would come close, but there was always going to be somebody stupid enough to stay out late. And if not people, then there were plenty of demons that prowled the streets, hiding in alcoves and searching for any soul that dared to venture into the dark. Cars still passed by, but as the time grew later, civilians were rushing home. From off in the distance, a siren echoed, presumably heading towards a late-night ruckus.

The sound of metal clinking around glass made Nero look over to Dante. He finished devouring his strawberry sundae and was currently eyeing the half-eaten one in Nero's hand.

"Hn." He offered his remaining ice cream to the older man. The night was getting too cold for Nero to finish it and he was fighting off the urge to shiver. Dante greedily accepted it and the sundae had no chance in hell of surviving now. Nero watched Dante with quiet fascination, resting his head on his clawed hand. He found it interesting that the old man at least ate something other than pizza.

Dante leaned back in his seat and a sigh escaped his lips in content. After a minute or two passes, he lazily looked over at Nero who was still watching him.

"We still haven't fixed your problem, kid." His icy irises held a glint of mischief.

A frown tugged at the corners of Nero's mouth. He was hoping to avoid that topic.

"Don't look so scared." Dante sat up and was leaning towards him now. Nero didn't know what kind of face he was making, but it definitely felt very confused looking. His mind was just at a total loss right now, trying to string together how eating ice cream had gone to...  _this._  Why was he even getting into this kind of situation with Dante anyways?  _Damn potions. Damn Lady._

"I don't bite. Much."

_I'll kill him._

The older man's hand reached out to caress the back of Nero's neck and the dull throb in his chest pulsed into a frenzy. Yet with all the inner turmoil churning inside him, Nero was frozen in place, watching as Dante came ever closer. He was getting closer. Too close now. Nero made to move back, but the hand on his neck held him in place. A chuckle rumbled lowly through Dante's throat and his warm breath ghosted over Nero's lips. He felt a tingle shoot up his spine and heat guiltily flooded into his face. The scent of strawberries filled the small space between them and in the back of Nero's panicked mind, he recognized the sweet fragrance. Things were really getting weird.

"Just close your eyes..." murmured Dante softly, his voice laced with seductive promises as he stared into Nero's gaze with those crystal blue eyes of his.

Nero refused outright.

"Do it..."

The fingers at the back of his neck traced soft patterns on his sensitive skin and the tickling sensation felt so good that Nero's eyes became hooded from his touches. Why isn't he fighting him off? He had never let anyone but Kyrie get this close to him. Dante wasn't doing a  _that_ good of a job coercing him. 

Dante and his innocent-but-not ministrations were just foreign to him and Nero simply didn't know how to react to it.

The air around them grew warmer despite there being no shelter from the chilling winds.

And the scent... the scent was  _intoxicating_ to him.

Nero finally succumbed to the allure and his eyes slowly slid shut. The sweet fragrance of strawberries and Dante's warm touch was all Nero registered in the darkness. His senses intensified by the loss of sight, Nero couldn't help but shiver when he felt fingers trail in a feather-light stroke from his neck to gently palm his face.

Nero wasn't ready for what came next.

Neither was he ready for the  _painful_  pinch.

"The hell, old man!?" Nero growled in shocked anger, hand going up to his stinging cheek. And then it clicked.

Dante started dying of laughter right then and there, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

He had been lying the whole time.

_Figures._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm an ass. c; But did I manage to tease anyone? No? Damnit... I also just wanted to get off the angst train for a bit. lol And sprinkle dat rainbow. Then catch the next train. Dante is slowly healing him, yes? hurrdurr. Sorry my story is so Nero-centric so far, but he's so interesting to write! Not that Dante isn't- that guy's hilarious! And even more complex behind that carefree attitude.  
> Feel free to point out mistakes or give an opinion! And thank you in advance! My story isn't as great (or comes near) the other amazingly detailed stories out there. D; 
> 
> I hope my artwork looks fine. It ain't the best either but I work just as hard on those.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Defection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorta in-depth look into Nero's past before he left Fortuna. Going to focus on Nero's time there and what had led him to ultimately leave. Yada yada.
> 
> "Even in this wicked state, I try and try to deny my wretched fate." -Anonymous

Nero sat in the corner of a bar, nursing an untouched glass of water. Kyrie was going to be performing soon and he had promised to come watch her. Tonight was one of those rare nights that he had arrived on time, so he was looking forward to seeing the angelic smile on her face when she spots him. He should be easy to find since the tables around him were empty. No one had dared to go near him because they were afraid of the demonic arm hidden under his sleeve. But Nero knew that he had never been well-regarded – even before he was cursed with the deformity; the townsfolk had labeled him a heathen for his lack of faith in their God and his fellow knights had always looked down upon him simply because he wielded a gun. Credo had stood up for him many times in the past – had tried to quell their growing animosity, but that only further strengthened their negative opinions about him. And now that Credo was gone, their scorn had grown to the point of shunning Nero for the loss of a great man. He never asked for Credo's help, but he missed his friend's guidance.

The lights in the bar dimmed. Nero looked up from his glass of water and saw Kyrie coming up to a microphone. Her eyes scanned the crowd; she was searching for him. When her soft hazel eyes landed on his, she beamed brightly. Nero acknowledged her with a lazy wave, but he was genuinely pleased. The stage she stood on wasn't really a stage; it was really a cleared area with a make-shift spotlight. The demons had ravaged Fortuna, their city nearly destroyed in the chaos and carnage, but the townsfolk had to make do with what they got and fixed what they could. This particular bar was used as a place for relaxation after a hard day's work of reparation. Kyrie served as entertainment; it was her own method of relaxing since she loved to sing - and what better way to lift up weary souls than with songs sung from the heart.

Her gentle lilting voice began to fill the bar, floating to the very back where Nero sat. He loved the way she sang – how she would close her eyes when her voice rose higher and then slowly open to gaze at him as she softens down. Kyrie always made him feel special. Tonight, like every other night, she wore the necklace he had gifted her; its crystal gleamed bright pink under the spotlight. Like always, Kyrie was the visage of an angel.

While he had been enjoying Kyrie's performance, someone took a seat at the same table Nero occupied. Since many people were afraid of him, Nero found it odd that another person would want to join him. Nero glanced over, not bothering to hide his obvious distrust. The man across from him was tall with short wavy black hair. He gave Nero a quick nod before he made a tipping gesture with his hand, signaling at the bartender to send a drink his way. Two drinks, if his raised digits were anything to go by.

A few minutes later, a timid waiter came to the table holding two shot glasses and a bottle of Brandy. The strange man gave his thanks before the waiter scampered away from them; he quietly poured himself a glass, the amber liquid swirling luxuriously into the tiny cup. He set the bottle aside for a second and downed the shot with haste, his nose wrinkling from the strong taste of alcohol. It seemed to have satisfied him as his slate grey eyes looked over to Nero and pushed the remaining shot glass his way.

"Want a drink?" He finally asked.

Nero who kept his guard up the whole time, replied, "I don't drink." His suspicion towards the strange man was growing. He decided to cut to the chase, "What do you want?"

The strange man filled his own glass again before he responded, "I'm just here to relax." His apathetic grey stare was on Nero for a brief moment until he redirected his gaze at Kyrie on the stage. "She has a lovely voice. That girl."

"Don't get any ideas." Nero said, the undertone of a silent threat in his words.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He drank from his previously filled glass. Still, Nero felt skeptical about him. After a while of listening to Kyrie's singing, he spoke again, "You don't remember me?"

Nero's brow furrowed at the question asked. "I don't."

"I see." The strange man nodded his head slowly, thinking. "I was a friend of Credo's. Sometimes I came by your home."

Never did he recall seeing this strange man, but Nero had known that Credo used to bring home company on occasion; he just never bothered to find out who it was.

"And?"

"And I wanted to talk to you."

Nero shifted in his seat, eyes turning away from the strange man who sat opposite of him. Was he here to ask about Credo's death? He himself had only recently heard about it and it pained him to know that he should have done something to prevent it. If he could have prevented it.

"I don't want to talk. Just leave me alone." Nero pushed his seat away from the table. He didn't want to hear it – the accusations.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." The strange man poured himself another shot in such a casual manner that it was beginning to annoy Nero.

"Well I don't give a damn." Nero was openly glaring at him now. But the man looked unconcerned with Nero's response, as if he didn't care that Nero could easily reach over and snap his neck with just his bare hand. It was that easy. Yet Nero forced himself to not act rashly, tried to simmer down, and only watched in heated silence as the man drank.

The man finished his drink with a light sigh and set his glass back down on the table with a sharp clink.

"Credo had told me…" He began, staring coldly at Nero. "...that if anything were to happen to him - that if he were to-... " A hint of sadness touched his hardened eyes. "...then I would be the one to watch over Kyrie."

That struck a nerve within Nero.

"I can take care of her just fine. Mind your own damn business." He snapped and he felt everyone's attention discreetly training on him; for anyone with eyes could easily see that he had become angered. In the background, Kyrie continued to sing; her voice ringing out gently as she stayed oblivious to the growing discontent of the patrons in the bar, particularly, the two in the back.

" _We_ don't need your help." Nero added, grinding out the words through his teeth.

" _You_  do. Credo may have entrusted his dear sister to you, but you think I can ignore how you're affecting her?"

"I said…" Agitation was welling up within him now. He knew the man was blaming him. He was sick and tired of all the blame. "…leave me alone."

On stage, Kyrie's voice heightened, eyes closed as her hand went up to grasp at the microphone.

"I'm here to help her. And you."

"Are you deaf?!" A growl ripped through Nero's throat and he stood up out of his seat to grab the man by the scruff of his shirt. He was angry, but his anger was contained - he was still in control. "I don't need your help. So you can go shove it."

"Nero!" Kyrie shouted as she ran towards him; the microphone toppled over from her hurried sprint and it emitted a high-pitched shrill. Nero's ears pricked with pain, but he was intent on dealing with the infuriating man in front of him.

"Let me make myself clear for your thick head." Nero intoned every syllable with malice. "Stay. The fuck. Away. From Kyrie."

Kyrie had reached the two and was tugging Nero away from the other man. "Nero, please!" She pleaded, sounding upset. "Don't start a fight!"

Nero aggressively pushed the man away, making the other nearly tumble over his own seat.

"Are you sure you can take care of her?" The strange man rubbed at his neck, finally glaring back at Nero. "Because the way I see it, you're incompetent."

"I dare you to say that again!" With his Devil Bringer, Nero threw the table aside, knocking over their glasses and the bottle of Brandy. They all smashed loudly onto the wooden floor and the stench of alcohol filled his nose. Tension was palpable in the hushed air now. Some patrons had already fled the bar, while a few who remained gathered together in case something happens. And by something, it meant in case Nero tried to kill the man.

"Just stop it!"

Nero turned his attention to Kyrie for the first time since the argument started; her eyes were wide - frightened - as she held on to his human arm. She... did she look scared? All the anger he felt began to drain away at the realization.

"You can't help her. Not like that." The man said, but Nero wasn't looking at him anymore.

"Please…" Kyrie shook her head, eyes downcast as she denied the words of the strange man - the man who had claimed to be Credo's friend. "Please don't say things like that, Abele."

"I'm only telling the truth."

Nero felt the trembling of her hands on him.

"Kyrie...no." He leaned down over her, taking her hand in his. She was the last person he wanted to frighten, yet now here she was crying. He was ashamed of himself - he wanted to take it all back. How could he lose his temper so easily? Nero looked around the bar; looked at all the cautious eyes on them. How they all stared at him. Like he was some kind of monster. "I... I got to go."

He released Kyrie, who only tried to keep a hold of him.

"Nero...!"

Gently, Nero pried her hand off, his voice subdued from fear of scaring her. "I'll come back home. Just... wait for me there." And Nero made his way to the exit, forcing himself to ignore her quiet pleas.

None of the other remaining patrons said anything as they quickly skittered out of his path. Just as he stepped through the door, he heard Kyrie crying a little louder and it was followed by the soft cry of his name. Gritting his teeth, Nero forged ahead, not letting himself look back.

He needed to clear his head.

 

* * *

 

Nero wandered around the wreckage of Fortuna and occasionally picked up large debris to clear the path for any future pedestrian that would pass by. No matter how badly the people here treated him, Nero still wanted to do his part to help out. After all, Fortuna was his home too.

He grunted as he lifted up a huge slab of concrete, the sad remains of what was once a house, and with minimal effort, he forced it to fall in the other direction, off the crumbled cobblestone street. Little by little, Nero was working off his frustrated steam; he didn't know how long ago it was since he had left Kyrie back at the bar but the rising crescent moon swathed the landscape in a ghostly blue, blending the shadows with the navy sky. The night didn't bother him; there was still enough light for him to work while he patrolled for demons at the same time and only the sound of small rubble skittering down from the mounds of debris was his companion in the night.

Sweat was beading on his forehead and he wiped them away sluggishly, feeling the cool breeze flowing through from the gaps between collapsed buildings; it helped cool him off somewhat, but if Nero could get to the stream, then he would allow himself a moment to relax. Currently, many fallen buildings and broken statues blockaded his way and he took it upon himself to do the task. None of the other residents would be able to clear it up as fast as he could anyways.

Nero moved to the next heap of rubble; there was a pipe sticking out. He grabbed a hold of it and pulled the pipe free. It was a disfigured piece of metal, Nero thought as he observed the fractured end. If someone were to get hit with it, then it would definitely leave a nasty gash. After tossing the worthless pipe aside, Nero used his claws to dig through the debris, throwing chunks after chunks of huge rocks and stones out of the way.

"Need help there?"

Nero looked over his shoulder at the source of the voice; a young teen stood behind him with a group of other teenagers. They seemed to be snickering amongst themselves.

"No thanks." He turned back to his task. Digging, pulling, tossing. It was a simple job. No need for help. He doesn't want any help. At all.

Then suddenly, his vision blurred and his face was violently rammed into the pile he worked on. A jagged piece of stone nicked his skin, causing a single trickle of blood to flow down from his forehead.

"I think you do." Nervous laughter sounded throughout the group.

They must have been at the bar.

"You think you're such a tough guy." The supposed leader of the group said as he ground Nero's face harder into the wreck. "But we ain't scared of you. Are we guys?"

They all replied in a chorus of agreement, getting gutsy from seeing the confidence in their leader.

"We all think you need to get out of our home. You're stinking up the place!" The group leader yanked Nero's head back by his hair, fingers pulling harshly against his scalp, and forced him to look up.

"Big talk for a guy hiding behind his friends." Nero sneered at the young teen. Then he reached up with his demonic arm and seized the teen by his wrist, effectively startling him to loosen his fingers on Nero's hair. Nero spun the teenager around, slightly twisting the teen's arm behind him, and was able to elicit a scared yelp from both him and his friends. "You're messing with the wrong person." Nero spoke harshly into his ear. He let go of the arm and shoved the teenager back toward his group. "Get lost."

"Son of a bitch!" The group leader spouted in anger after he regained his footing. The group of followers all stood looking at each other, muttering for retreat, but the leader tried to rally them. "Come on! Five against one. There's no way he can take us all on!"

"b-But Elio..." One of his friends stuttered, knees shaking in obvious fright. "He's... he's-"

"What? Not  _human_?" Nero spat venomously, his Devil Bringer flashing brightly in the dark night and it made the frightened teen cower at the sight. He'll always be ostracized for that one reason.

"Didn't demons kill your sister, Gian?!" The teen named Elio shouted to the frightened one. "Get revenge for her!"

"I told you. Wrong person." Enough is enough.  _Should have known that this is what it was about._ Nero pointed a clawed finger at each and every one of them. "I didn't kill anyone's sister or anyone else. And for the record, I saved this goddamned town while you all hid under rocks."

"Bullshit!" Elio ran up to him again, getting in close to Nero's face, before his hands pushed roughly. He was courageous, Nero gave him that much. "Where were you when those things attacked us?! When Flora was dragged away?! Huh?! We  _had_  to run!"

No matter how irrational the teenager was being, the cold truth stung Nero and he couldn't stand hearing anymore from the teen. Elio and his friends were in pain, but so was he. "…I can't save everyone." He said, his voice quieting.

"Heh. Now who's the one talking big?" And Elio's next words pierced Nero deeply. "You were too busy searching for your little girlfriend that you even let your own friend die."

Nero threw the first punch so fast that the teenager was sent reeling backwards. The whole group descended upon him, the confusion of turmoil spreading quick between them all. Nero was dodging and weaving through the crowd. Limiting himself to his human hand only, Nero knocked one poor guy square in the face. Blood squirted out from the teen's nostrils as Nero felt bone break beneath his knuckles. The teen with the now broken nose stumbled away, hand over his screaming face, and when Nero turned to face the next one, arms suddenly slipped under his before he had a chance to react. He felt hands locking themselves securely behind his head and tried to wrangle free from the hold; his body twisted side to side in raging effort, trying to break loose, but another teen came up and started pummeling him in his vulnerable midriff. The clobbering knocked the wind out of Nero and he was straining to regain his composure. Strike after strike the fists came, beating him ruthlessly with no mercy.

But then there was a brief pause in the assault as the attacker stopped to catch his breath. During that moment, Nero exploited the opening and managed to kick the attacker in his softer belly. So while the teen was keeled over in pain, Nero used his restrained arms to tightly squeeze the grappler's head between his forearms and bent forward, heaving the grappler off his feet, and sent the teen flying over his shoulder - straight onto the recovering attacker. The two get knocked down from the collision and now they're lying sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain. Nero turned his narrowed eyes on the teenager with the shaky knees.

"I-... I don't want revenge!" Shaky-knees-Gian fled the scene upon seeing how easily Nero overpowered his friends.

"Gian, you coward!" Elio yelled at the retreating figure. He glared at Nero, the start of a bruise visible on his jaw where he had been punched earlier. "You're filth." He spat before he charged.

Nero avoided the fist that swung out at him, snatched Elio by his arm again, and used it as leverage to swing the teen around and trip him with his feet. The teen fell forward, hands-first, onto the ground; dirt clouded up where he fell.

"Now is your chance to walk away." Nero told the teen, forcing himself to stay calm. "I really didn't want to hurt anyone, but you guys insisted."

Elio was breathing heavily in frustration, his nails raking at the dirt. Even in the faint moonlight, Nero could see the scorching anger gleaming in his dark eyes.

"I hate you..." Elio muttered under his breath. "It's your fault... that I lost her."

Why? Why does everything fall on him?

A sudden force slammed into Nero from behind and floored him.

"Hold the freak down!" He heard voices say above him. Something or someone was keeping his head pinned to the ground. As Nero struggled to free himself, his angry breathing puffed up the dirt and it made its way into his mouth and eyes. He could taste the earthy grit on his lips and every time he blinked, he felt the sting of the coarse particles as his eyes automatically teared up to flush them out.

"Show me his arm!"

Nero felt his Devil Bringer being forcefully yanked from his side. His face scraped against the dirt as he tried to see what they were doing to him.

They held his arm straightened out on the ground and Nero could see someone coming up to them carrying an object. He squinted through his dirt-ridden eyes, trying to distinguish what it was in the near darkness. Once the frail moonlight fell on the object in hand, a glint of silver trailed over the rusted outline. A pipe.

"All you demons..." Someone began. Whether it was Elio or one of the others, Nero couldn't tell who was talking; he was solely focused on the pipe that was being raised above him - silhouetted by moonlight against the night sky. "...should just die!"

Over and over again, the pipe was brought down onto Nero's arm - on the arm that was the bane of his existence. He felt no pain. It'd take a lot more than that to injure his arm. But the pain he hadn't felt from the physical abuse was more than doubled by a sense of rejection.

He had tried. Over and over, he had tried. He had tried to make friends. He had tried to believe in their God. Tried to follow Credo's footsteps. Tried to save who he could.

He had tried his best.

So why?

Why can't anyone accept him?

Strangely, his view started to become distant, distorted. As if it wasn't his arm that he saw being battered by a rusted old pipe. Nero watched on as the demonic arm grew a brighter blue with each strike. The brighter it became, the foggier his thoughts felt – until he no longer saw the blue glow or the rusty pipe.

His eyes were squeezed shut now; his hands covered his ears too. He didn't see anything; he didn't hear anything. He didn't see the blood; he didn't hear the screams.

They weren't there, he told himself. Eyes squeezed shut. Hands covered ears.

He blocked it all out.

The screaming soon filtered out and he was somewhere quieter. All was still. All was silent. And it stayed that way. Only an occasional rupture briefly broke through his tranquility, but it was incoherent. Irrelevant. He needn't mind it.

Then he felt nothing phase into everything.

No longer were his eyes blind and his limbs restrained. His senses returned to him; pockets of navy seeped back into his eyes and Nero saw with stark clarity the dark, nearly black fluid that pooled over his tightly clenched claws. Out of shock, Nero released his vise-like grip and the teenager, Elio, fell to the ground like a corpse. He was still alive, but it didn't look like it would be for long. Nero could see Elio's shallow breathing from the short rise and fall of his chest. His eyes weren't playing tricks on him. Blood bubbled up from an open gash on Elio's throat - distinct claw marks visible.

Nero was horrified by what he'd done. Completely horrified.

He wanted to help the teen, but he doesn't trust his hands. And that only makes Nero hate himself even more. A young teen was dying in front of him and he can't do anything. It was even worse because he was the cause. Frantically, Nero looked around them, his tunnel vision clearing up, and saw more bodies splayed out on the ground. For a moment, Nero thought he had killed them all, but they were breathing evenly, some coughing while others rolled over to clutch at wherever they felt pain. They were badly beaten and bloody as well, but none were as bad as Elio's condition.

"f..Flo...ra..." The last word Elio uttered before he expired; his eyes stared up blankly at the night sky. There was no rise and fall of his breathing. No more words came from his mouth. Elio was still. All except for the flow of his blood that seemed to follow in Nero's direction.

Nero ran.

Like a panicked child he had ran; he ran away from the bodies, climbed above the fallen remains of homes, and tripped down the wreckage in his desperate need to get as far as possible. He kept running. Through the woods he kept on running, instinctively ripping away any branches that came in his path until he finally came upon the stream. Nero tumbled into the dark, icy waters and felt his clothes soaking up everything. His chest was heaving for air; he wasn't catching his breath – he was hyperventilating.

Nero started scrubbing furiously at his face, chaffing the skin there, then moved on to his clothes, and finally, his arms. But then he became stuck rubbing only at his Devil Bringer. There was a strange sound coming from his lips. Was he crying? Laughing? Or was he still wheezing? His sounds were abnormal to him. He couldn't make sense in the mess he had become. So he cleaned harder. The scales tore into his fingers and palm.

He had to get it off. The stench. It has to go. Why the fuck isn't it going?! The cuts from his cleaning dementia had quickly healed only for more wounds to appear anew.

His noise constant in his ears, he continued to clean.

_Why?_

 

* * *

 

Nero stood in front of the home he shared with Kyrie – his clothes drenched in water. He had been standing outside for a while because his feet wouldn't respond; he couldn't bring himself to go inside to face Kyrie. Tonight, he had killed someone. No matter how many times he had washed himself in the stream, he couldn't get the blood off. There was no tell-tale sign of red, but it  _wouldn't_  come off. Nero still felt it on him, like he was unclean – like the stains were more than skin deep.

It only took one night – one mistake – to ruin the fragile peace he had tried to keep with Kyrie.

From outside, he saw a figure pacing back and forth. He could easily tell it was Kyrie behind the thin curtains; the flutter of her hair, the gentle sway of her hips, and the meek frame of her posture. She was worried.

He couldn't go inside like this. She would see all the blood.

As if she sensed his presence, Kyrie went up to the windows and pulled apart the curtains. Their eyes met and Kyrie dashed away from the window sill. A few moments later, Nero heard the click of the door opening and stepped out of the light that emanated from inside, masking himself in the shadows.

"Nero?" She called out to him, her delicate voice even sounded worried. "Nero is that you?"

"Yeah..."

"What are you doing standing there?" She moved aside and gestured at the open doorway for him, but Nero didn't move; he was rooted to his spot.

"Nero...?"

There it was. That quiver in her voice. Was she really worried? Or does she know? No. No, don't think about it. Think about the bigger problem...

"Oh my God..." Kyrie's hands hovered over her mouth. "Are you hurt?" And she ran out towards him. Her hands touched him, checked his face, his neck, his chest, and when her teary gaze lowered, pupils reflecting the captured dull glow of his Devil Bringer, Nero angled his body away from her prying touch.

"I'm filthy." Nero told her, echoing Elio's earlier words.

"It doesn't matter!" She cried out and tried to reach for his arm, but Nero stopped her and pulled her into a one-armed embrace while he hid his demonic arm behind his back. "Let me see...!" She sobbed and looked him up at him – her face contorted in agony.

He had just killed someone with it. If she touched it right now - with Elio's blood still on these very claws - then it would taint her. He knew there was blood. He couldn't see it, but he just knew it was there - because he could still  _smell_  it.

Nero wasn't sure it'll ever go away.

" _I'm fine._ " Physically. At least he didn't lie. However, he might as well have because he was hiding a sickening secret. It had hurt him to no end when Kyrie had assumed he got injured. It was far from it. He gave her a chaste kiss on top of her forehead to calm her down; her hands were balled up into tiny fists on his damp jacket. She was crying again. And again it was because of him.

_'f...Flo...ra...'_

He didn't mean for any of it to happen and he could feel the dead weight of remorse hanging heavy in his chest, dragging him down and wanting to swallow him whole.

What would Kyrie do... if she knew the awful truth? Nero didn't want to let go of her at that moment. For a while, they just stood there – under the moon and stars. Nero was looking to the heavens, wishing that things didn't end up the way it had. Fervently, he prayed, but no "God" heard his prayers. All Nero received for an answer was the rustling of leaves in the night wind and the morose song of crickets.

He could never believe in a God anyways.

Nero felt movement against his chest. Kyrie had lightly pushed away from him. While still sniffling, she said, "Let's go inside." She reached for his demonic arm again, but Nero kept it out of her grasp. There was pain in her eyes, but she acquiesced and took Nero by his human hand instead. "I'll start on dinner. You should go shower before you catch a cold." There was a fake cheer instilled in her voice as she tugged him with gentle care towards their home.

Credo's friend was right.

He can't keep doing this to Kyrie.

He didn't deserve to be forgiven.

_Tonight… will be his last night._

 

* * *

 

Nero woke up from his doze. He had only meant to take a nap while he waited for his laundry to finish, but his body felt heavy now, like he hadn't slept at all. And he felt… sullen.

 _It must be the stupid couch's fault._  Nero turned on his side, trying to get comfortable, yet the old couch just creaked and groaned beneath his weight. He decided to forget about trying to go back to sleep and swiveled his body upright, his feet touching the floor as he rested his elbows on his knees. What had he been dreaming about? He palmed his eyes, rubbing the sleep out; he knew he dreamed of something - but what? Nero blinked hard, mind recalling fragmented parts of a haze. He was close. Just focus a little bit harder… It's on the brink of being remembered… and…

 _On second thought. Maybe it's not a good idea._  Nero rationalized that the dream might have been a nightmare or something and he knew full well that he didn't want to go down that road again anytime soon. So he leaned back into the couch and noticed Dante's quilt folded neatly on the pool table.

Yesterday's antics hadn't escaped Nero and he'll be damned if he lets the old man get away unscathed. He looked over at the waste of space occupying the desk; feet propped up, hands were dangling, and a magazine was opened on his face. Dante had officially declared a prank war that day and Nero had every mind to pay him back double. Later.

He found himself staring at Dante's sleeping form and then back at his demonic arm. If it wasn't for Dante's guidance, Nero wouldn't have known what to do with himself and he probably would've jumped off the deep by end now. He scratched the back of his head in contemplation. Was it okay for him to consider the old man as his friend? Did he deserve it?

As he thought deeply on the subject, a feeling, much like frigid fingers curling around his heart, squeezed him and Nero shook away his pointless pondering. The laundry would be done soon, he remembered, and he stood up to go attend to his business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a tough one to write. D'; Still brain breakingly fun! Though I think my story wants to write itself out… Also I'm sorry for the Nero/Kyrie, but I wanted my story to be a bit realistic. He had feelings for her and I can't just write it off compleeetely. :c I could, but I can't. The inner sadist in me likes the tragedy it brings to the table. But thats just me. I'm sorry.
> 
> Feel free to point out anything! Constructive criticism welcomed!


	8. Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter warning?

"Is it in...?" Nero asked, his voice carrying a slight pant.

"Yeah... Get ready, kid." Dante warned. When he managed to get a good grip, he started pushing forward.

"h-Hey! Slow down!" Gasped Nero. "You're gonna hurt me!"

Dante snorted in laughter and accidentally pushed the mattress with more force than he intended; the kid lost his balance and fell backwards down the stairs, mattress tumbling down after him.

"DAMNIT, OLD MAN!" Nero shouted from the bottom of the stairs. He heaved the mattress off of him and glared up at Dante.

"Sorry I... went too hard." And Dante started chuckling at the joke that only he seemed to get. The kid really needed to watch his words around him because innuendos came too easily to mind.

"Tch. Now my ass hurts..." The younger grumbled in irritation as he got up to dust off his behind. Dante couldn't help but snicker some more. "The hell are you laughing at?" Nero sniped at him.

"Nothing you need to worry about."

Dante descended the stairs while Nero lifted the mattress onto his new bed frame. The basement wasn't intended to be used as a sleeping quarter and he had offered the kid his room on the second floor again, but it seemed Nero was adamant about not using it anymore. Well as long as the kid was fine with making his own living arrangements then Dante had no problems.

The walls were cleared of his trophy heads, but Nero didn't seem to mind that it was still riddled with holes from when he had hung the skulls. It was more barren down in the basement now since everything of his was shoved into the other section; boxes and chests were stored in the deeper back while some Demon Arms had been moved upstairs. Nero had actually taken a shine to Nevan despite being bitten by her and Dante almost felt flattered when he wanted to hear him play it again.

 _When I find the time, I'll play another song or two to entertain the kid._ Dante thought as he watched Nero set up his new space. It was a habit he had recently started doing more often; to keep a closer eye on Nero in case there was a sudden change. He stared intently at the back of Nero's head and studied the kid. Warning signs were what he was looking for - anything that would tip him further about what played on the younger's enigmatic mind. He remembered the fiery spirit he used to be able to evoke out of Nero during their chance encounters in Fortuna. But now, that spirit had been dampened, leaving only anger in its wake.

"What's that you have there?" Dante asked, seeing a small blue box in the kid's hand.

Nero's hand tightened imperceptibly around the box and moved it to the front of his body where Dante couldn't see. "Just something I picked up while shopping." The younger answered flatly over his shoulder.

Dante just moved closer, trying to get a look at it. "Is it for me?"

"No."

Now that only piqued Dante's interest more until his curiosity got the better of him and he moved even closer. Nero turned to face him and backed away, but the kid couldn't go far enough since he was hindered by the bed. So Nero settled with pointedly glaring at him, looking a lot like a cornered cat to Dante.

"Stingy." Dante pouted and feigned defeat, hoping it'll make the younger lower his guard. "You're too serious, kid."

"And you're not serious enough, old man." Nero quickly retorted back.

Then Dante tried to make a swipe at the box, but Nero had stayed on his toes and held his box up and away from Dante's grabby hands.

"Ohhh. I like secrets. Just a peek? I promise I won't laugh." He begged the younger, trying out his puppy dog eyes.

"I said no. And back off!" Nero had his free arm held up protectively between them to buffer him from Dante's sturdier body, but Dante managed to get a hold of the younger's arm.

Dante knew he was acting childish, but he also knew that being a nuisance often forced Nero out of his shell. The kid never knew how to take a joke sometimes and it was purely entertaining to see him get riled up by the littlest things he said and did. He would be lying to himself if he ever thought that he didn't enjoy seeing the look of frustration on Nero's face. Also, messing around with him simply gave Dante an excuse to be nearby. Kids shouldn't be scowling so much anyways.

"Come any closer and I'll rip you a new face." Nero growled, trying to pull free from Dante's hold, but his threat was offset by his flushed cheeks. He still kept his secret box out of reach and his Devil Bringer pulsed dimly in a warning.

Dante blinked at the half-threat. He hadn't realized how close he had gotten to Nero, close enough to see the shade of pink that dusted the kid's angry face, and he was suddenly reminded of that night in his car. Pushing Nero's buttons would always be a fun past time, but that night...

His thoughts trailed off to when it all began - how it started with a little white lie to see if the kid would really believe him or not. On the day he had received the potions from Lady, she had informed him that they were designed to wear off within a couple of hours. So it surprised him that the kid never bothered to talk for so long. Although if Dante thought about it... he shouldn't have been so surprised if he considered the kid's anti-social attitude. Add that to the aftermath of their near car accident and Nero would have no incentive to talk. Dante had also stayed quiet because he could sense the foul mood emanating off the kid in waves and wanted to wait out his anger with some strawberry sundaes. However, if Nero had spoken to him instead of bottling up his feelings... and hadn't made him want to cheer the kid up... then maybe... maybe that moment between them would have never happened.

"Are you going senile? Give me some space!" Nero's harsh words were followed by a light shove and it brought Dante out of his internal reflection.

"Getting a little touchy there." Dante felt the tug of a smirk on his lips. "Must be something really important in that tiny box."

The subtle pink bloomed into a deeper shade. "It's just... a dumb souvenir, alright?"

"Uh huh." Dante chose to go along with whatever Nero said. He wasn't all that curious about what was inside the box; Nero was just too fun to mess with and whether or not he had meant the threat, it was always refreshing to see to the kid return to his normal self - no matter how brief it lasted. "Well, while you have fun with your new room, I'll be upstairs handling important phone calls."

"Right." Was Nero's sarcastic response, but when Dante turned to leave, he called out, "Wait."

Dante shifted his head a little to the side; he didn't bother to fully look back.

"I'm sorry." Were the words Dante heard come out from the younger's mouth. He had no clue what the sudden apology was for and suspected Nero was still suffering from his guilt-trip. With a shrug of his shoulders, Dante nonchalantly left the kid to his own devices and went up to his office.

Back in the comfort of his office, he took a seat at his usual spot, grabbing his magazine from where it laid on the desk. A close acquaintance of his was supposed to call today with a job. However, his old fashioned rotary phone remained silent. So as he sat in his seat, flipping absent-mindlessly over pages he had already read numerous times, he continued to wait for the call that never came.

It was now 5 pm. An hour late.

The only times Enzo forgot to phone were when he was either flat out drunk or distracted by... intimate company. That said, his friend Enzo never failed when it came to calling for help in times of need. So Dante wasn't worried at all, only a little annoyed that the prick didn't bother to call, and decided that maybe paying a visit to his friend's place sounded better. He'd been feeling cooped up lately from babysitting and was starting to feel especially lively at the thought of going hunting - there was nothing like some mercenary work to get the adrenaline flowing again.

Dante tossed the magazine back onto the desk and got up to stretch. He growled lowly in satisfaction, feeling his back crack and pop from the flexing. Usually he would never stay still for so long unless he was asleep. Maybe next time he'll make his new partner handle future phone calls and save himself from the hassle of waiting.

_Speaking of my new partner..._

"Kiiiid!" He called loudly in no particular direction. True to his expectation, the sound of footsteps were coming up and a few seconds later, the basement door swung open; the kid's white hair was the first thing to poke out.

"What?" Nero said sounding a little irritable.

Even though Dante knew the kid could hold his own against him in a fight, he found Nero's aloof mannerisms to be funny; maybe even a little cute - like the kid was begging to be bullied with the way he acted. But Dante held himself in check, remembering why he had called Nero up in the first place.

"Mind watching the office while I'm gone?"

"Where are you going?" Nero asked and Dante didn't miss the way the question was intoned, sounding like it was phrased to be an insult.

"A place where kids aren't allowed." He casually fired back. The temptation to poke fun at Nero was hard to resist, but he also wasn't lying either; Enzo lived in the seedier parts of Capulet - where adults actually do go to have fun. Yet the smoldering look Nero gave him made Dante take back his words. "Well, I  _am_ going on a job. Tag along if you want."

Nero looked back over his shoulder, gazing down the stairs that led to his room. "Okay. Hold on." And he went back down.

_Bet he's going to hide that box of his..._

Dante sighed and grabbed his trench coat off the back of his chair and held it up to marvel at how talented his tailor was. It had recently came back from the tailor's and was cleanly patched up with not a single stitch in sight. No questions were asked either when he brought in a badly ruined coat bearing a giant hole - or more importantly - a giant hole covered in red stains; it was obviously blood because the stains crusted and flaked off his coat. But that was why he liked this particular tailor, who was an old woman in her 70's running a quaint little family shop. He had gone to the same tailor for years, and judging by her willingness to stay silent about his sketchy articles of clothing, she was either scared shitless of him or had some impressive sense of customer loyalty. Dante pulled on his favorite coat before he retrieved Rebellion from its rack. Next, he lifted Red Queen out just as Nero made it back up into the office.

He tossed Red Queen over to the younger, who caught it and strapped the sword onto his back without missing a beat. For a moment, Dante thought it would be nice to have a partner who could instinctively get on his level of thinking. It would make demon hunting jobs a whole lot more fun.

"All set?" He asked the younger and Nero nodded in an affirmative. "Good. Don't get distracted."

"I won't." And there was that confident undertone in Nero's reply as they both walked out of the double doors of Devil May Cry.

 

* * *

 

Shortly after, they had arrived at the place where Enzo was staying. The raised eyebrow and incredulous expression Nero had given him upon seeing the garish building was predictable.

"You go to a strip club called  _Love Planet_ for jobs?"

"Hey, it's not my fault that my friend likes to stay here." And then Dante added just for kicks, "But I do work part-time here on Saturdays. You should come watch me."

Nero actually laughed at the joke with a shake of his head and Dante felt happy seeing the kid's genuine smile.

That's not to say Dante himself had  _never_  used the services offered. He did. At least he did in the distance past - back in his times of living life day to day without a care for human suffering. But ever since he met Trish, and then Lady later on, he became more sober and had stopped drowning himself in alcohol. Trish, even though she had betrayed him before, was the one who reminded him of his love for his mother, a human named Eva. On the other hand, Lady's hatred of demons had actually contrasted with his previous distance from humans. She was practically on the opposite side of the spectrum with his new views and it had been difficult to break through her walls, but over time Dante was able to show her that demons were also capable of emotions - that not all demons were beyond salvation. So through his close bonds with the two women, he was able to develop other close friendships that went beyond the easily forgotten one night stands.

Although Nero looked to be dealing with a different sort of issue, Dante hoped he could do the same for the kid and help him get out of whatever slump he was in.

The two enter a lavishly decorated lobby with its lush red carpets and velvet draperies. Added for effect was dim lighting to showcase the many candles glowing faintly on tables. The decor was trying to go for a romantic atmosphere, but the mood came off as erotic because of the many portraits depicting half naked women hanging on the cream colored walls. Beyond the bar was a curtained doorway and from his own experiences, Dante knew it led to the pole dancing area.

Dante slyly looked over at Nero to gauge his reaction and wasn't surprised when he saw that the kid was already eyeing the various women strutting about on heels. He doesn't blame the kid - it'd be difficult to  _not_ look at the lovely women when they were all dressed in clothes that left little room for the imagination.

"We're here on business.  _Not pleasure._ " Dante reminded Nero, fully enjoying the reddening look of annoyance that seethed from the kid's features.

"I'm not like you." He snapped, walking further in. But the kid obviously had no idea where to go... and where to look. So Dante had simply watched on in amusement when a group of girls started gravitating around him.

"Oh, look at him!"

"Isn't he handsome?"

"He looks just like  _him._ "

"Are you looking for a good time?"

The scandalous women were all enamored by him and each tried to gain his attention, "Oo"ing and "Ahh"ing over his appearance. Nero was being surrounded by them and quickly became flustered from their close proximity. The only things the women had in common were their make-up and scarcity of clothes; every one of them showed off tantalizing skin for all to see and masked themselves in perfume that they thought would make them have a unique scent. But when they all gathered together like how they were currently doing to Nero, the strong smells would coagulate in the air and burn the nostrils of whoever smelled it.

From the distance, Dante could already pick up the growing panic on the younger's face, but he didn't want to step in just yet - he was having too much fun seeing Nero flail in his awkward nervousness. At first the young man held up a hand to try and stop their forward advances, but when one latched her arm around his right arm, the kid freaked out and shoved her away. The women squealed in fright at the abrupt show of force and backed away from him.

"How rude!" Rebuked a woman with blonde curls. She quickly went to the aid of the little brunette who had fallen to the floor and tried to comfort her with soothing words while giving Nero a critical look. The brunette stayed where she was, staring up at the ceiling and delicately fanning herself with her hands as she tried to keep her tears of embarrassment at bay.

Nero just stood stock-still; only his mouth was in motion, opening and closing like a fish, looking completely at a loss of how to explain his inappropriate reaction to a little unexpected contact. Dante took pity on the poor kid and leisurely walked towards him to try and smooth things over with the displeased group of women.

"My apologies, ladies." Dante said as he held his arms out apologetically to them. "My friend here gets a little too nervous when it comes to beautiful women." Then he winked over at the offended brunette and like a gentleman, he offered her a hand. She fluttered her lashes at him, blushing brightly as she daintily placed her fingers on his. After she was pulled her up to her feet, she swooned at Dante's charming smile, letting a breathy sigh escape her red colored lips.

"Thank you," she quietly murmured, losing the coquettish persona that all night escorts seemed to possess and turned docile under his gaze.

Nero was all but forgotten by the women as they flocked over to Dante instead. Yet now wasn't the greatest time to fool around and he gently told them that he had to go meet with someone. A few of the girls started displaying signs of jealousy from hearing his words, and each pouted their colored lips while one girl with glossy black hair asked who it was that he needed to see and if he could just skip it in favor of keeping them company.

"I'm here to see Enzo." He answered straightforwardly to emphasize that he was here on business and business  _only._  The girls nodded their heads in disappointed understanding, but they crooned over him for a bit more, telling him to come visit again, before they went back to their duties of seeing to the other customers. A gust of air left Dante's lungs in a half laughter and he looked over at the kid who stood awkwardly off to the side, watching him. Dante felt like he should say something because the kid's expression of regret was disheartening. So he decided to go with, "In the future, I'm going to teach you how to handle the ladies more gently."

"Hn." Nero avoided any eye contact and stared down at his boots.

With a light sigh, Dante went over to Nero and ruffled the younger's hair in an attempt to calm him and distract him from his thoughts. This time the kid didn't bother with trying to avoid his touch and let his hair be petted. But the petting lasted a second too long and Nero tilted his head away, muttering a curse under his breath.

"Come on." Dante said after, dropping his hand back down to his sides. "Let's go upstairs."

It was dimmer on the second floor. A mixture of giggling and moaning could be heard from a multitude of rooms. Dante could already sense Nero shifting uncomfortably behind him and he smiled to himself about how cute the kid was behaving. Nero was practically an adult who went around hunting and killing demons without batting an eye, yet here he was getting fidgety from only hearing some R-rated voices.

_Then again... he can't even handle simple social interactions._

Room 207 was where they stopped in front of and Dante knocked on the wooden door. The sounds of shuffling was heard from the other side. It wasn't long until the brass doorknob turned and the door creaked open; one red-rimmed eye peeked out and was staring at them through the small crack.

"Dante...?" Came a groggy voice sounding heavy and laced with slur. Then the door shut again and there were various clicking and clacking noises as it was being unlocked. Once the door reopened, his friend Enzo stood disheveled at the entrance before he remembered to step aside for them to enter. Nero and Dante towered over the short stubby man - who stared up at them in mild irritation - as they came into his room. "wha... What are you doing here...?" He looked like he had just gotten out of bed with his tangled hair and wrinkled dress shirt.

"Why do you think?" Dante replied, casually casting his gaze around the room. It was just as gaudy in here as the rest of the club. "You were supposed to call."

Enzo grunted and slammed the door closed after everyone was inside. "If I had known my angry ex-boyfriend was comin' over, I'd have tidied up the place and put on a pretty blue dress."

"It's a good thing I didn't tell you. Gotta know what you're really up to behind my back." Dante chuckled, going along with his friend's banter. He could never get over Enzo's peculiar accent. "So about that job."

"Of course - almost forgot." And Enzo tapped his temple knowingly before he used his hands to slick back his bedraggled hair; it didn't quite work, but Dante wasn't going to point it out - or the fact that Enzo really had forgotten.

The portly man wobbled over to a table, picked up a rectangular metal case, and pulled out a cigar to place between his lips. He flicked open a small lighter and lit up the end; it burned brightly as he inhaled his daily dose of nicotine and tucked the lighter back into his pocket. After a few more puffs to get himself going, Enzo started to speak around the obstruction between his lips, "Some of my other guys went missing yesterday. Sent them on a low-class job and haven't seen them since. Sheesh! What am I paying these guys for?" Another puff. "Dante, I want you to go find 'em, and bring 'em back."

"I'm not playing fetch, Enzo." Dante said, feeling a little let down. He was hoping he'd get something more interesting. "I thought this was a real job."

"It is! Don't you deal with weird shit that goes bump in the night? What were they, uh...?" Enzo gesticulated with his hand, moving his wrists in a circular motion as he tried to call up the word from his hung-over mind.

"Demons?" Dante quirked his eyebrow at Enzo's alternate choice of words.

"Yeah. Them." He said, snapping his fingers in remembrance. "Who cares? Can you do it or not?"

"Alright. Fine." Pay or no pay, if a job involved hunting demons then he'd always be up for it. Still, it never hurt to receive a little  _something_  for his efforts. He was keeping the streets a little safer at night after all. "I'll find your guys."

"Attaboy! How 'bout I get the bartender to pay you with pizza again?" It was like Enzo had read his mind.

"You drive a hard bargain..." Dante said, words trailing off as he pretended to think about the offer.

And the two break into amiable laughter. That was when Enzo finally took notice of Nero; the kid had his arms crossed in silent patience and was leaning against the wall beside the entrance. He looked like he hadn't moved at all since they came into the room.

"I forgot 'bout this guy." Enzo wobbled over to the kid while Dante strode along behind him. "Hey! He looks exactly like you!" He piped up, turning to look up at both their faces to try and compare.

"Now what would've make you think that?" Dante asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Don't be a wise-ass." Enzo snapped briskly. "He your kid?"

"Hell no." Dante and Nero answered in unison. Both of the hunters made eye contact and Nero turned away quickly after, rubbing at his nose.

"Sure. You guys probably think and talk alike too." The portly man chewed on the butt of his cigar for a bit before he asked, "What's your name?"

"Nero."

"You Dante's new partner or somethin'?"

"Yeah."

"That's funny. He usually works with girls." And Enzo quirked a brow at the new information.

"Do not." Dante interjected. "I've worked with other guys before." But then beneath the surface of his mock petulance, Dante remembered his twin brother and felt a twinge of guilt.

"Pretty sure you don't even rememba the last one you worked with." Enzo said with a snort to Dante, oblivious of his own callous words, and then he turned back to Nero. "Don't talk much, do ya?"

This time Nero didn't bother with his usual short and quick responses - Nero didn't saying anything. In fact, he was looking at Dante; face stoic and not betraying whatever was on his mind. Nero's passive staring felt strangely intrusive to Dante, like the kid was almost  _scrutinizing_  him.

"Hey-"

"He's a little shy." Dante finally answered, interrupting Enzo before he could ask about the hitch in their conversation and it earned him a half-glare from the younger, his penetrating gaze suddenly gone.

"Okay. I get it. We can chit-chat more, later." Enzo opened the door for the two hunters and ushered them out of his room. "I sent them down to 11th avenue. Go check if they're still there." The door slammed closed and locks were clicking back in place behind them.

The kid was already starting down the stairs and Dante trailed after him. Downstairs, the girls gave Nero a wide berth as he headed for the exit, but when they saw Dante following along, some of the girls stopped him and looked quite happy to see him again.

"Dante, you should teach your friend to be more  _sociable_." The same woman with blonde curls crooned to him in her velvety voice. Her implications weren't lost on Dante. "It's such a shame for a handsome face like that to go to waste." She lifted a slender hand to rub at the stubble on his jaw and hummed appreciatively.

He chuckled then because he found it funny how he had thought of something similar to that earlier. Not the handsome face part, though.

"No promises there." He told her before he carefully extracted himself from the group of women and proceeded to catch up to Nero, who was probably waiting for him outside.

When Dante came through the double doors and caught sight of Nero, he felt a need to check up on the kid. It was never a good sign if he got too quiet. With an utter lack for discretion, he never took his eyes off of Nero's features, returning the favor from earlier. He watched Nero closely, noticing the subtle shift to a frown on the kid's lips, the slight crease forming between his brows, and the obvious narrowing of his eyes. So when focused blue irises confronted his persistent stare, Dante knew he had gotten Nero's attention.

"You have a staring problem, you know that?" Nero said, but there was no hint of annoyance in his voice.

 _So do you._ Dante wanted to add, but said, "Just trying to see if you had fun."

"I didn't."

"Well I told you it's not a place for-"

"I wanted to come." Nero answered, cutting off the rest of Dante's sentence.

Now the kid was just being difficult.

"You must hate being home alone then." Dante teased as they continued down the street toward the inner city districts. 11th Avenue wasn't that far of a trek - they would be there in about 15 minutes. "Papa would've came back."

"Yeah. Like I need you to tuck me in at night." Nero deadpanned.

"I just might have to." Dante quipped.

That got a breathy little laugh out of the kid and Dante joined in too, feeling proud that he got a second smile from Nero.

"You'd be pretty popular with the ladies if you didn't act so cold." He said, thinking back on how Nero's social skills needed improvement.

"I'm not interested." Nero stated, shrugging his shoulders.

"But what if someone was?"

"I wouldn't care." The kid was starting to appear uncomfortable with the conversation and switched topics, "Look, let's just get this job done, okay?"

Dante let the topic slide and remarked in amusement, "Well aren't we in a hurry to go home now." But Nero kept walking as if he didn't hear the jibe.

It had gotten windy while they were inside the strip club and the sun was slowly sinking in the red sky, coloring the passing clouds a fierce orange while outlining them with bright golden highlights. 11th avenue was unusually quiet for this time of day; there was no sign of life anywhere - not on the brick paved streets, not on the sidewalks, not near the buildings or even behind windows. It was as if people were hiding.

Ahead of them, a giant warehouse door was swinging loudly on its broken hinges - squeaking open then clacking closed. Dante motioned for Nero to stick close; the younger nodded his head and followed behind him as they made their way to the building. The wind was blowing harder now, making the door swing wide open before slamming with a crash. When they reached the seemingly desolate warehouse, Dante grabbed the iron handle of the oak door to hold it open. Even with his hand firmly gripping the door in place, he could feel the push and pull of the gale.

His eyes flickered over to Nero, signaling to the younger that he needed to be ready; Nero understood his nonverbal command and kept a hand over the hilt of his revolver, Blue Rose, which was holstered on his leg. Nero slipped in first and Dante spared a moment to look back over his shoulders. On the horizon, he saw a mass of purple storm clouds melding with the fading orange calm. He released the handle and stepped inside before the wooden door could hit him on his way in.

Nothing but discarded and forgotten furniture occupied the space inside of the warehouse; the white sheets tossed over crates and barrels were grayed from collecting dust and the only bit of color in the shadowed interior seeped in from a single window on the open second floor. It would have looked no different from any other ram-shackled warehouse, but his foot had kicked away something on the ground; the metallic rolling sound was barely loud enough to be heard over the howling wind and racket of the slamming door. On a closer inspection of the tiny object, Dante realized that the floor was littered with bullet shells.

"Guess we found where they were last." Dante swept his gaze across the area. He wasn't sensing anything yet and when he looked back at Nero, at his now revealed Devil Bringer, he could see that the kid hadn't picked up anything either. "Go check upstairs." He ordered Nero and the two split up to search.

As Dante crouched down to examine the empty casings, he took note of the elongated scar lines running across the aged floorboards. The cuts looked to be clean and precise, but there was not a speck blood - no bodies; all he had to go on was the marks and used bullets - neither could explain the outcome of the fight.

 _Where were they?_ Dante stood back up and looked around again. Above, he heard the scraping of something heavy being moved. That gave him the idea to do the same.  _Behind?_

Then he spotted it; there was a door barely hidden behind some crates and the sheet covering the crates had a hand print showing a lighter white beneath the dust. He went over to the door while he listened to the thud of Nero's footsteps above him and pushed aside the crates to gain better access to the concealed door.

Then the smell of blood reached his nose. Dante eyed the door handle cautiously; something was on the other side and he was willing to bet that he wasn't going to like what he'll find. He yanked open the door and was buffeted by the cloying scent of copper. On the ground in front of him was the body of a man severed in half; his entrails were spilled out from his upper half, laying exposed in a pool of blood. Dante leaned into the small space.

 _Looks like we're too late... He's already been dead for a while..._ The edge of the pool was clotted and crusting; the man's skin was pale - devoid of any warm colors - and made the blue bags beneath his misted eyes a stark contrast against his grayed skin. Dante reached over to the man's face and gently shut his eyes.  _I'll kill the demon responsible for this_ , he told himself.

Suddenly, the surface of the puddle rippled. Dante looked down to see the reflection of a black cloud floating above him. Through the dark red, a ghastly distorted face was staring right at him and the haunting sound of laughter reverberated in the air of the cramped space. Out of the corners of his peripheral, Dante noticed something moving slowly away from the sides of his head. He hastily dropped low to the floor, gloved hand streaking the sticky cold puddle of blood, and ducked down in time as he heard the sliding of metal over metal just over his head.

Giant blades steadily separated, opening up again. The shadowy cloaked figure hovered above him, clinging to the ceiling and filling the space with its ethereal dark energy - the ends of its black frayed cloak danced and billowed in the still air.

Dante rolled out of the way when the blades came down in what would have been a fatal thrust. One blade jammed into the floorboard while the other drove itself into the leg of the man's corpse, severing yet another limb. Dante winced inwardly at the sight and was grateful that the man was already dead - only because it meant he wouldn't be able to feel any pain from the damage inflicted.

Ghostly laughter echoed again throughout the warehouse as the giant scissors wiggled free from where they had stuck. And when Dante heard the sounds of gunshots, he knew that Nero was already engaging in his own battle.

"You want a fight? Come and get it." Dante pulled Rebellion from his back and pointed the tip of his blade at the cloaked demon as it wisped out of the closet.

The demon sailed straight down towards him, its rusty scissors snapped in ferocious delight. Dante parried the attack with his sword and forced the blades to glance off to the side, causing the demon to reel back with its weapon in hand. Then with fluid dexterity, he drew Ivory out and followed up with a counterattack; he shot up at the mask before it could get a chance to recover its balance and the bullet pierced the side of its mask, shattering it only partially. Its laughter came out grotesquely distorted and a sickly green hand reached up to cover the crumbling side of its remaining mask.

Dante had faced this type of demon before, Sin Scissors, and if he recalled correctly, its mask was the weak point, so it should be fairly easy to end the battle. He fired another round up at the demon, but it twirled away in evasion. Then it suddenly stopped - even the intangible airy flow of its cloak had ceased - and thrust the sharp twin blades out again in his direction. Dante bent backwards and leaned away far enough for the scissors to cut only the air just a few inches above his chest. He used its moment of vulnerability to deliver the final shot and the demonic mask shattered completely this time - its cloak disintegrated into the air, as well as the residual echo of its hollow laughter fading out with it.

From the upper floor, Dante could hear Nero still in battle. He rushed up the stairs in time to see Nero swing his Red Queen, but it just passed uselessly though the demon. The one Nero was engaged in battle with was the other pair of the demon that he had just defeated, a Sin Scythe.

"Your creepy laughter is really getting on my nerves!" Nero snarled at it, seemingly frustrated by the lack of contact his sword was having.

"Aim for its head, then! That ought'a shut it up." Dante called out to the kid. Nero didn't seem to look like he heard at all until he pulled out his revolver and fired a shot at the demon's mask.

The twin bullets pierced the mask and the demon's angry sounding laughter rang out before it swung its scythe in a wide horizontal arch, forcing Nero to back-step away. Then it turned and started to flee. Nero gave chase and Dante followed suit. The Sin Scythe was going to escape and it phased through the only window present on the second floor - fleeing was an annoying habit that Dante had come to learn these particular demons do whenever they were on the verge of death.

"Oh no, you don't!" Nero picked up speed, outrunning Dante, and he sprang forward; one booted foot landed on the crate stationed beneath the window and he used it as leverage to launch himself up into the air, diving right through the grimy glass panes. It shattered into pieces, but the noise was drowned out by the howling winds. Dante reached the window as Nero fell out of sight and braced a hand on the sill to look down; he saw Nero landing smoothly on the ground below before he resumed his chase.

 _I like his style._  Dante thought, jumping down after the kid.

The chase led them further away from the warehouse; the sky was a deep murky grey and rain was pouring down hard on them. On the streets, puddles had already formed and water splashed with every step they took chasing the demon down. Oddly enough, the demon didn't try to phase through any of the buildings in its attempt to escape; rather, it turned down alleyways and only picked up speed when it sensed that either one of them was going to shoot.

Dante had a sneaking suspicion that they were being led somewhere and he wasn't sure if Nero had a clue either, but the two of them continued to pursue their fleeing target. Then the demon finally decided to phase through a building, quickly ending their chase.

"Damn it!" Nero looked up, his eyes examining the area for a way to press on.

The walls were too high for them to scale easily over - not that it had ever stopped Dante in the past - but something told him they wouldn't need to go after the Sin Scythe anymore. Nero was about to break through another window to continue after it but Dante held out a hand to stop the younger.

"Don't bother." Dante said; his suspicions were right, he thought as he stared at the brick wall, watching it cautiously as he sensed a growing demonic aura much stronger than the one they'd been chasing. "Looks like it had a friend waiting for us."

"Isn't that just great?" And Nero looked over to the part of the wall where Dante was staring at; his hand automatically moved to grab at the hilt of his sword while his fist balled up in a fiery blue.

Like the small rippling of waves, the brick wall distorted with an eerie effect coupled with a deep disturbing laughter as something red protruded out, lengthening into twin narrow horns, until finally, the hollow eye holes of a glowing mask gaped at them. Not long after, the rest of its body was revealed - this time, the demon exuded a sinister red aura and wielded an equally formidable looking scythe; its blade curved out with deadly length.

"So we were led into a trap." Nero took this moment to reload his revolver, empty shell casings falling to the ground and disappearing down a sewer drain beside his feet.

"I wouldn't call it a trap. More like it made things easier for us."

They were facing a Death Scythe now; its laughter resounded again, sounding lower and less shrill than its Sin counterparts, and the demon dived to them with surprising speed; its gnarled hands had swung the scythe downwards but the two dashed apart from where the blade jammed into the ground, missing the tails of their coat by a millisecond.

Then a second laughter joined in the constant echoing of the first, its ghostly sound rising above the downpour of the rain. Dante thought that the escaped Sin Scythe came back, but to his astonishment, something spun into Nero with a metallic clash. Luckily, the kid had pulled out his Red Queen at the last second to block the unexpected attack, and now his hands were straining on the hilt as his blade was getting drilled on the other side.

With a grunt, he pushed the newcomer back with his sword. What attacked him was another higher ranked demon, Death Scissors.

"What's this? Did we just get invited to a party?" Dante asked Nero, joking tone coloring his voice. Things were always made a little more interesting when both of the Deaths were present - which meant it wouldn't be a boring fight and  _that_  was what he wanted all along. "Kid. Think you can let me take care of these two?"

"And let you have all the fun?" Nero revved his sword for show, flames shooting out along the length of his blade. "I don't think so."

"Kill joy!"

Yet the two hunters charged the Death pair together. Nero rolled under the path of an oncoming curved blade - still moving forward towards the Death Scissors - and left Dante to deal with the Death Scythe.

Even though he wasn't getting the full package, Dante still hoped that handling at least one of them would provide a decent enough challenge for him. He surged forward at the Death Scythe, his blade held at the ready, and thrusted his Rebellion at an upward slash to parry the scythe that was coming down his way. The scythe flew out of its elongated fingers, but another scythe appeared out of thin air and one boney red hand reached out to grasp at the handle of the newly conjured weapon. It savagely swiped at Dante one-handedly and would have caught him by his arm if it weren't for his fast reflexes. He could dash out of nearly any attack with speeds never anticipated - a trick he loved utilizing whenever he wanted to toy with his foes. Nothing was funnier than knocking demons down a peg or two when they thought they had the skills to take him on.

"Careful! I just got this back!" He shouted, referring to his trench coat - though he knew the demon wouldn't care at all. With his free hand, he drew Ebony out and raised his pistol up to fire at its mask. But the demon's dodging abilities proved to be more swift and agile than its Sin Scythe counterpart.

 _No matter. My guys are faster._  Dante backpedaled away from the demon, luring it further from Nero and the demon's complimentary pair. After he created enough distance, he sheathed Rebellion to quickly draw out Ivory and trained both pistols on the approaching Death Scythe. Then he unleashed a flurry of bullets, feeling a smirk making its way onto his features as he started to become trigger happy.

The demon managed to bring its scythe up to shield itself from the hail of gunfire, however, unfortunately for the Death Scythe, Dante never had to reload his guns like Nero had to, and his unrelenting firing was causing cracks to appear across the surface of its blade. When the scythe finally shattered, a loud wailing laughter cackled through the air and it summoned two more scythes to hurl them both at Dante. He dodged the projectiled scythes by jumping into the air; the scythes whizzed past under him and careened dangerously down its unpredictable path. Yet once it managed to distract Dante long enough, the Death Scythe saw its chance to escape and dove into the nearest building.

"Scared now, huh?"  _Damn._ He really hated it when they thought they could poof in and out of battle whenever they wanted.

Nero was preoccupied with the Death Scissors and was busy holding off its attacks as the Death Scissors spun its weapon around over its head in a fashion meant for swords. Dante thought about lending him a quick hand, but one step toward the kid and his opponent reemerged, its scythe manifesting out from the side of a building; the handle ghosted through the rain-streaked brick wall as if it had no physical essence, but its blade jutting out proved otherwise, slicing through all the junk leaning against the wall and looking as deadly as a sharp blade could be.

With swift practiced ease, Dante holstered his pistols in favor of his sword and blocked the oncoming assault, bracing against the attack with both hands and effectively shielding himself with Rebellion. Sparks were sent flying from the friction of blade colliding against blade as the scythe grazed over his sword. The demon was face to face with him now, their blades grinding between them. From behind the Death Scythe, Dante saw Nero trapped in the steel clutches of giant scissors. The kid had utilized his Red Queen to block one side while his Devil Bringer protected the other, but it left them both trapped in a dead lock.

A loud haunting laughter reverberated out from the Death Scissors - almost like a beckoning - and the Death Scythe in front of him twitched in response. It pushed Dante away with enough strength that he nearly keeled backwards, and it spun around to charge at the defenseless kid, its scythe reeled back in preparation to lop Nero's head off.

"Don't turn your back on me!" And Dante speared Rebellion at the Death Scythe. The well aimed attack nailed the cloaked demon in the back of its head, broke through both of its horns, and lodged its blade deep into the side of one of the buildings. Dante had managed to stop the Death Scythe in its tracks, and it allowed Nero a chance to force himself free from the Death Scissors, but the demon's disfigured mask hadn't been destroyed. From behind the broken pieces that still clung to its nonexistent face, flame-like smoke was bursting out, swelling through and shrouding around its head like an angry visage. Now that Nero was freed, they stood separated with the Death pair between them looking really pissed off.

The Death Scythe seemed to go berserk and summoned scythes in both of its hands. It threw them both at Dante and then it consecutively conjured up two more to throw those at Nero. So while the hunters avoided the propelled scythes, the Death Scissors had cast a spell, materializing a dark energy field below them - one that slowed down their movements. It was then that the Death Scythe called forth a whirlwind and pushed its gnarled hands out towards Dante, forcing the magical spell to travel his way.

Things looked grim, but Dante always had his own little tricks up his sleeve. Concentrating on his right hand, he mentally called for Rebellion, visualizing the feel of its hilt back in his grasp. Sure enough, his trusted sword yanked free from where it had been stuck and was traveling fast towards Dante; it's only goal was to return to its master's possession. But not without him tweaking its path a bit first; he manipulated his sword to ram right through the unsuspecting Death Scissors, effectively killing it off and freeing their body from its binding spell.

"Bulls-eye!" Dante cheered in delight after seeing how his sword broke through the horned mask from the inside out. Now Rebellion was back in his hands. Just in time too. The whirlwind was about to engulf Dante, but with the magic spell gone, he was free to move about faster and he leaped into the air, calculating his movements in a way that allowed him to be propelled up high instead of getting swallowed whole by the raging vortex.

_Watch this, kid._

And just like he wanted, Nero's eyes were glued on him as he let loose a rain of metal down on the Death Scythe below, his body spinning from the air currents. Damn thing didn't have a chance against Dante's stylish air raid. He knew he looked good doing it, too.

With the defeat of the Death Scythe, the whirlwind dispersed, and Dante landed back on solid ground. Its eerie laughter still echoed, but it slowly died away, lost in the pouring rain all around them. The weather had gotten worse; rain was coming down heavily, the wind was whipping at his face, and Dante just noticed now that his clothes were completely drenched. But no matter - at least they weren't torn to shreds.

"Did you see that?" Dante cheerily asked and gave his pistols a twirl before he shoved them into their respective holsters.

"Don't forget about the job." Nero reminded him instead, blatantly brushing aside his spectacular feat.

Dante felt like his parade had been rained on, in this case, quite literally. He was hoping to get a little more reaction out of the younger for his impressive display of finishing off both Deaths.

"O. Kay." He raked a hand through his wet hair, moving it out of his face. "Then did you find anything back at the warehouse?"

"I did." Nero holstered his weapon and lifted his hood over his head. "No survivors."

"None?" And Dante remembered the pitiful fate of the man he found in the closet.

Nero gave a shrug of his shoulders in response, looking quite indifferent to the deaths of the men they were supposed to save. A troubling sign to Dante, but he also understood that it was no use fretting over things that couldn't be changed. Nero sneezed and it made Dante think that standing around in the rain also wasn't productive either.

"Let's get back to Enzo's before you catch a cold, kid."

"Guess you don't have to worry about yourself." Nero sniffed and tugged his hood lower. "Idiots don't get sick."

"Yeah, yeah. Now get a move on."

The two hastily made their way back to Love Planet and entered the club with the clothes on their back sopping wet from the pouring rain. Every step they took, going past the girls and up the stairs to Enzo's room, was accompanied by a squelching sound.

Dante knocked on the door and it swung open much faster than when they had first came by.

"You two back already? Didja' find them boys?" Enzo asked, his appearance looking much cleaner and a lot less disheveled.

"Sorry. There was no one left."

"Whattya me-..." And then it sank. Enzo sighed exasperatedly and then waved them off. "Ahhg, check in with the bartender for your payment."

When the door slammed closed, Dante could hear Enzo muttering angrily on the other side about "no-good rookies." Yet rookies couldn't handle demons like the Death Scythe and Scissors.

 _Those guys had no idea what they were up against when they signed up for the job._ Dante felt bad for the men, but he couldn't blame Enzo either. Even he didn't know what had been waiting for them at that abandoned warehouse when he had thought it was just low level demons that needed to be chased off. Well, he had done what he could and finished their job, maybe even avenged their untimely deaths. So now he would just have to move on.

"You heard the man. Go check with the bartender." Dante ordered the younger standing beside him.

"I'm not your errand boy." Nero scoffed, narrowing his deeper blue eyes at him.

"Sure you are." And Dante began shaking his hair, splattering Nero with water droplets.

"Real mature, old man." Nero said holding a hand up to cover his face, but he obliged and headed downstairs anyways.

Satisfied with his victory, Dante waited until Nero was out of his sight and knocked on Enzo's door once the coast was clear.

The door opened again; Enzo stood in the doorway and quirked an eyebrow up at Dante. "Got something else you need?"

"Yeah, actually... I was hoping you could do me a favor..."

 

* * *

 

Dante rejoined Nero downstairs and noticed that the kid was engaged in a conversation with the bartender. Actually, the conversation was somewhat one-sided because the bartender was the only chatty one. He hung back a bit, not wanting to step in while Nero had a chance to talk to someone other than him. He thought it would be a good chance for the kid.

The bartender said something that made Nero smile. Dante got curious but he still wasn't going to join them just yet. Then one of the girls spotted him by the bottom of the stairs and went over to him.

"Hello." She smiled and flipped her sleek jet black hair over her shoulders, exposing creamy alabaster skin. "You look a little lonely just standing here all by yourself."

Dante looked down at her, into her emerald green eyes. "I can't exactly impress the ladies if I'm drenched from the rain."

"Quite the opposite." She cooed, watching as Dante unconsciously brushed back his rain damp hair.

It felt nice knowing someone appreciated how amazing he was. Guess he was too used to getting the cold shoulder from Nero - Lady and Trish as well for that matter.

"If you'd like...after my shift, you can come over to my place to warm up." She sauntered closer to him, not minding Dante's sopping wet clothes at all. "I promise I won't try anything."

"Can't promise you that I won't." Dante flirted back. It was like a conditioned response from him.

She bit her lower lip lustfully. "I'd be counting on it." She then placed a hand atop his chest, her finger playing with his coat buckle. "So… what do you say? My place?"

Dante didn't expect he'd get a serious proposition, and as he stood looking down into her brilliant green irises, he found himself not truly wanting to go. One night stands were a thing of the past. He didn't want to go back to it. He shouldn't anyways. That would be something reserved for when he hit rock bottom.  _If_  he ever did. And it was something he actively avoided now, especially since he had Lady and Trish to whip - uh... - keep him in check.

"You're really beautiful - and I'm flattered, but..." His thoughts flickered to Nero and how alone the kid must be. "I got someone waiting for me back home."  _Actually, he's here with me._

She huffed in annoyance and muttered under her breath, "...why do I always find guys who are taken..."

"I'm sure you'll find someone. You really are gorgeous." Dante tried to reassure her.

"If only it was that simple." The woman dropped her pouting act and actually laughed - it was a genuine laugh despite her self-depreciating answer. "Well whoever she is... she is one lucky girl to have you." She stood nervously in front of him for a bit. Her tight clothing accentuated her curves in all the right places and showed just about enough skin that even intelligent men would be reduced to ogling her stupidly. "I guess I should get going."

 _Yeah. Go. Before I change my mind._ Dante forced his hands to stay at his sides and simply nodded.

When the woman was gone, he released a sigh, already wishing he had taken up the offer. It had been a long time since he... well, took care of things.  _That kid is such a cock-block._

Nero had enough time to chat with the bartender and since it was still raining hard outside, they really should be going home soon. He went over to them and clapped the kid on his shoulder to get his attention.

"You done here?" He asked, looking from Nero to the bartender.

The barely-there-smile that had been on Nero's lips from talking with the bartender faded and he nodded his head as he brushed Dante's hand off his shoulder.

"I'll forward the money to your account tomorrow, Dante." The other man said to him. "Would you like a drink, perhaps? On the house."

"Sure, give me whiskey. I need something to warm me up." A shot of whiskey would be the preferred alternative to supple skin and he tried not to dwell too long on his missed opportunity.

"Just a sec'." The bartender pulled a cup out from under the counter and filled it halfway. He then pushed the drink over to Dante's waiting hands.

"Thanks. And hey," Dante addressed the Bartender. "You should call the cops and send them over to 11th avenue."

He didn't even need to clarify why. It was a given that Capulet City was just that dangerous.

After he downed his glass, the two hunters stayed at the bar for a bit. Nero only ordered himself a glass of water and was idly fixing the sleeve that covered his Devil Bringer. Dante almost forgot that Nero seemed to hide it within his jacket whenever they went to places filled with people. But Dante figured it was the price paid for being part demon. Humans feared what they did not know and demons ridiculed them for their weak human side.

It always seemed to be a lose-lose situation. He laughed to himself, earning a sideways glance from Nero.

Later, they left the club and made their way home together in the cold rainy night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much trouble with action scenes. orz But I wanna do it. I wanz!


	9. All Is Fair In A Prank War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not that anyone cares, but I think "Odd One" by Sick Puppies kinda fits how I view these two. It's a cute song by my definition.

The tune Nero was listening to was one of his favorites. He was on the couch, one leg propped over the other with his arms draped over the back of the couch, and he was nodding his head to the beat of the music. This was how he planned to spend his day off: listening to his jam. He really loved the new pair of headphones that he had bought for himself. It was pretty pricey, but its quality of sound was completely worth every penny. Plus it was also a lot better than the previous one he had owned before.

So while he nodded away with his eyes closed, something knocked the headphones off his head and onto his lap – the music he lost himself in continued to play from its speakers, sounding horribly like static because of the distance.

A snarl curled at his lips. His  _greatest_  pet-peeve was to have his music interrupted and he could only think of one person who had the gall to do it.

"Hey, kid." Dante greeted innocently. The old man moved past the couch and settled himself on his favorite spot at his desk. He didn't even try to make eye-contact – he knew exactly what he did since the annoying smirk on his lips was so obviously evident.

 _Don't I still need to pay him back for his little prank a few days ago?_ Nero thought, remembering the whole potion incident and the humiliation he had been subjected to in front of Lady.

Coolly, Nero put his headphones back on, doing his best to ignore the urge to spout something out in retaliation.  _That prick has it coming._ Both for the prank  _and_ for stealing his kill. He could have easily taken down the Death Scissors by himself. He didn't need any help. But Dante just had to swoop in and kill his target. He couldn't help but think if Dante thought he looked weak – like he needed protection.

The music wasn't doing a good enough job of keeping his thoughts at bay anymore, so Nero tried cranking up the volume. Even then it still wasn't enough; because of the rude interruption and unneeded reminder, his thoughts started preoccupying the forefront of his mind. If he didn't know any better, he swore that the old man was still trying to keep watch over him – as if he needed to be babied. The act was getting a little tiring; not to mention it chipped away at his confidence of being a demon hunter because he knew he was more than capable enough to handle his own fights.

A sound left his lips in the form of a scoff.  _Maybe I'll prove it one day and kick his ass myself._

Outside, the rain pitter-pattered against the windows. Droplets slid down the glass panes in rivulets as grey light flooded in from the overcast skies. The whole day had been nothing but grey, grey, and grey because the rain hadn't let up since last night and continued on to the next day. There wasn't much to do when it basically kept him inside all day, stuck doing nothing with a bored Dante. That was why rainy days weren't his thing.

After living with Dante for quite some time, he had quickly learned how  _annoying_ the older man got when he was bored. It was like Dante's bullying doubled when he had nothing to keep him occupied. Unfortunately, Nero happened to be right there.

He  _hated_ rainy days.

Why couldn't Dante do something productive with his time – like cleaning for example. But no, the old man preferred to bother him because he wanted some company.

 _Just you wait..._ Nero thought, comforting himself with an idea that had hatched the night prior; the bartender had told him something interesting about Dante when he had asked about their reward. In addition to the cash payment, he had offered them a free order of pizza.

_'So is there anything you'd like on your pizza?'_

_'Everything. Except anchovies.'_

_'Everything? Even olives?'_

_'Yeah. What's wrong with that?'_

_'Dante doesn't like olives. The look he gave me from seeing them on his pizza..._ scary _.'_

 _'Him? Scary? I'd like to see that_.'

 _'Laugh all you want. I'd never cross that man_.'

Nero actually liked olives. To him, pizza wasn't pizza without them. They added a little extra to the dish.

A brief second of blue-white light flashed in the office and through his headphones, he heard the roar of the thunder following seconds after. His eyes flickered to the windows to catch a streak of lightning crackling across the sky, flooding everything in a blue-white light again. The violent boom that followed sent little tremors throughout the office. It definitely looked like they would be stuck inside all day.

All this damned depressing weather and thinking about pizza made him hungry. He was actually in the mood for one now and since today felt like a lazy day, ordering pizza sounded like a good idea. He didn't feel like cooking at all right now. Ever since he had volunteered to cook for them both, they never had to eat pizza for every meal – but that didn't stop Dante from trying his luck from time to time. However, Dante gratefully ate everything on his plate whenever Nero took the time to cook for them both. Nero secretly liked cooking, though he knew that whatever he made would never compare to Kyrie's, the one who taught him how to cook. He brushed aside his thoughts and slid the headphones off, letting them rest around his neck, and got up to go over to the phone on Dante's desk.

"Go make me something." Dante ordered from behind his old magazine. "I'm hungry."

A twinge of annoyance hit Nero. "I wanted pizza today."

Dante looked up from the page he was on. "Pizza?"

"What? I thought you loved pizza." He asked from seeing the look of confusion on Dante's f ace.

"And I thought you hated it."

"Not really. I just can't eat it on a daily basis like you." Nero picked up the phone and dialed the number. While he was waiting for the call to connect, Dante put down his magazine to reach out for the headphones around his neck. With his free hand, he tried to swat the annoying man away, but when someone answered from the other end of the call, Dante managed to steal it while he became preoccupied.

'International Home of Pizza!' A cheerful voice trilled through the earpiece. 'How can I help you?'

"Yes, I'd like to order…" He shot a glare at Dante as the older man put  _his_  headphones on. "Pepperoni pizza, extra cheese-…" Nero picked up the magazine to pretend he was looking at the cover and held it up high enough to hide his lips from Dante's view. "…And extra olives." He added in a quieter voice just in case Dante might hear. He wondered what kind of face the old man would make if he saw olives on his pizza.

'Would you like anything else?'

He dropped the magazine back onto the desk, feigning a bored look. "A bottle of Pep and that's all."

'Okay! It'll be…'

After hearing the total cost and giving the worker needed information like his name and address, Nero hung up and immediately tried to grab his headphones back from Dante, but the man simply got out of his seat.

"So that's the kind of music you listen to..." It didn't sound like he was surprised, nor did it sound like he was criticizing his tastes. "Can I borrow it?" Dante asked with a wink.

"No. Now give it back." Came Nero's quick reply; he held out his hand, demanding for his headphones.

"Wow, looks like someone doesn't like to share." Dante slowly stepped away, taking it off and dangling it in Nero's face like a temptation.

Nero tried to grab at the headphones, but this time, Dante was annoyingly quicker. Nero huffed. A bored Dante was a childish Dante. He really just wanted his headphones back and he wasn't fond of letting people touch his new things. Especially Dante; people like him could easily break his stuff if he wasn't careful.

"Go listen to your crappy jukebox."

"Hey, I told you it's an antique."

"Yeah? And so are the lame songs." Nero dove forward, leaning over the desk with his claws outstretched. Yet he still couldn't get his headphones because the jerk held it out of reach and even clicked his tongue at him in a chastising manner.

"You'll have to do better than that." Dante's remark lit Nero's short fuse and he banged his fist down on the wooden top before he quickly rounded the desk. Images of strangling the older man filtered into his mind.

"Enough! I'm done fooling around!" He exclaimed, voice rising in impatience.

"Haha! How badly do you want it back?" Mocked Dante; his obnoxious teasing would be the death of him.

"Damnit, old man! You're asking to get punched!" Nero closed the distance between them.

"Stop being so moody. At least try to act like you enjoy my company. "

"Go entertain yourself if you're so bored." Nero backed Dante to the wall and his mind silently wondered why he was so easily egged on by such a brazen man.

Maybe Dante was just that good at getting under his skin. Maybe he was just a fool for letting the old man get to him. Either way, he only wanted the jerk to return his headphones. And since Dante still wasn't giving it back, Nero had no choice but to pin Dante against the wall. His demonic arm firmly pressed against the older man's neck. If there was any attempt to throw him off or even a hint of movement, he would increase the pressure on Dante's exposed throat.

But Dante never tried anything.

"Ohhh…I like it rough." Dante semi-wheezed through his restricted windpipes – one arm held Nero's headphones above their heads while the other just stayed limp at his side, not even bothering to try and break free from Nero's pin.

"Don't be sick." Nero gave a small push of his demonic arm – Dante simply coughed out a laugh – and he reached up with his free hand to snatch his headphones from loosened grips. But to his shock, Dante wrapped his arms around his waist soon after, preventing Nero from leaving once he had his headphones back.

What the-?! Let me go!" His demonic arm left Dante's throat to start pushing against a broader chest. He hated how he kept unconsciously comparing his body with Dante's.

"Do you hate me?" Despite the carefree look on Dante's face, there was an almost seriousness in the tone of his question. But Nero didn't want to waste effort in analyzing it.

"Right now I do! So can you stop acting weird?" If he took everything the old man said or did seriously, then he'd never survive around the big idiot. He held the headphones behind him, trying to keep them away from Dante, but to his surprise, Dante reached around him and pulled the headphones out of his clutch. However, instead of taking them, he tossed the headphones onto his desk. Even more shocking was when he started hugging Nero out of the blue.

Uh…" Nero couldn't process what was going on and he could already feel heat rising up to his cheeks. A bored Dante was bad – really bad.

_Scratch that. He's Dangerous._

They stayed like that for a short while: Dante smiling like an idiot with Nero frozen in his arms. Nero was completely at a loss as to why the old man was hugging him. He needed to compose himself – and fast. So with a voice lacking his true nervousness, he asked, "What do you think you're doing?"

"What's it look like, genius?" Dante's smile twisted into that stupid smirk of his.

 _You arrogant smartass…_  No matter how hard Nero glared at the older man, it did nothing to ease the prickling sensation of anger and annoyance of being embraced so openly – like a hug between two grown men, for no apparent reason, wasn't strange in the slightest. He didn't like being toyed with – or having his personal space violated.

"Let go of me."

"Not until you stop being a brat." Dante hugged him tighter and Nero felt a chill creeping up his spine.

"Why the hell are you always so touchy!?" Nero started to struggle; he was suddenly reminded of the time in Dante's car – and what a horrible thing to remember in a situation like this. Now both his arms were pushing against Dante, furiously trying to get free, but the older man's hold didn't loosen. Nero could feel the embarrassment welling up and he snarled, "Let go before I punch your face in!"

"Aw, you're actually being cute."

Nero stilled and all attempts to escape were momentarily forgotten. Had he just heard what he thought he did?

"You're the saddest thing I've ever laid eyes on." Dante continued, "Almost like a yapping puppy that makes me want to kick you."

This particular idiot had the creepiest ways of mocking people, Nero thought, and he felt the biggest urge to deck Dante right then and there to shut him up – maybe hard enough to break his nose for good measure. He had the brute strength to hurt a half-demon like Dante if he really wanted to.

Then the jukebox suddenly blared into life, attracting both of their attention to the "antique" machine. Why it was always turning on randomly was a damn mystery, though Nero knew it was simply  _that_  old – and crappy – but he was ultimately grateful of the chance it gave him.

The slim moment of distraction was enough time for him to gather his wits and headbutt Dante, forcing the older man to inadvertently release him; he recoiled in pain, eyes scrunched closed, as Nero quickly distanced himself from Dante.

"You really need to learn how to play nice." Dante groaned, cupping a hand over his nose. Nero hoped that it would leave a mark before it fully healed itself.

"Bite me." Nero grabbed his headphones off the desk and returned to his usual spot on the couch. He hated how Dante was always picking on him, so it was about time he finally got back at the old man.  _That should teach him a lesson._

The jukebox died out once again and Nero caught Dante quietly muttering to himself, "Maybe it is a crappy old thing…" And he glared at the jukebox that sat quietly in the corner of his office.

20 minutes later, of peaceful semi-solitude later, Nero's headphones got knocked off again.

"What is it this time?" Nero growled, snatching his headphones from his lap.

"Pizza's here~" Dante sang happily. He was looking really ecstatic about getting to have his favorite food today.

 _Wait for it…_ Nero thought, remembering that he "sabotaged" their pizza.

Dante strolled to the front to answer the door. Wind gusted in from outside, but that didn't look to have lessened Dante's spirit one bit.

"Hello, sir." Greeted the delivery guy; it was cold and pouring out and the teenager shivered on their doorsteps as his clothes were quickly speckling with rain water. In his hands were the box of pizza with a bottle of soda perched on top of the cardboard container.

"Thanks!" Dante fished his wallet from out of his back pocket, paid the teen, and greedily took the box from him.

The delivery guy looked down at the cash he received and his eyes widened in surprise. "s-Sir. You gave me too much. It was only…"

"Keep the change."

"Really? Thank y-!"

Dante slammed the door in the delivery guy's face. From behind the rain streaked glass, the teen's awe-struck smile could still be seen by Nero.  _Did the old man just…?_

"Ohhhohoho…" Dante groaned, grabbing Nero's attention, "I haven't had one of these in a while…"

"You mean last week?" Nero corrected. He could've sworn that he saw Dante guzzling down a box quite recently.

"That  _is_  a long time." Then Dante proceeded to inhale deeply, "You smell that? The cheese… the pepperoni… the rich tomato s-"

"Shut up. Let's eat."

"I know – I can't wait another second either." Dante chuckled happily at the box of joy in his hands.

Nero resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Dante placed the pizza box on the pool table in front of him. Yet the second he flipped the lid open, the old man stilled. Nero took his headphones off and stood up from the couch.

"Man, I'm starving…" He pushed Dante aside so he could get to the pizza. The first bite was burning hot on his tongue and he savored the taste – the sweet taste of  _victory_. Oh and the pizza was good too.

"You… added olives?" Dante slowly asked, his eyes never leaving the pizza on the table.

"Yeah… why aren't you eating? It's going to get cold." Nero knew why, he just wanted to poke a little fun at the older man for once.

"Why?"

Nero was halfway done with his slice already. He was actually quite famished. "I like olives. They're  _really_  good with pizza." He lifted another slice and proffered it to Dante. "Here. Eat."

"I don't like olives…"

"It tastes fine. Don't be such a kid." Nero teased.

The furious look in Dante's eyes was downright scorching. "I  **hate**  olives."

For a second, it almost seemed as if Dante wanted to rip a new hole in him and the thought that he very well could made it difficult for Nero to swallow his food. But then, there was a slight tremor in the older man's lips – looking a lot like a pout – and he snatched the slice out of Nero's hands, the ominous aura completely gone.

"They. Taste. Disgusting." Dante intoned with every piece of olive that he picked off one by one.

 _Ha. So this was what the bartender was afraid of?_  Strangely, Nero felt like he just dodged a bullet – and not the flimsy little olives that were being thrown at him.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Dante stood at the door leading to the basement. Right now he was going to make sure Nero was still fast asleep. Quietly, he tip-toed down the stairs and stopped just a few steps shy from reaching the bottom. He peered over at the figure lying on the single bed. Nero was curled in on himself, facing away from Dante, but his deep, rhythmic breathing was a sure enough indicator that he was still sleeping.

_Nero's asleep. Check._

He stealthily rushed back up the stairs and headed towards his desk to grab the plastic bag that sat atop it.

_Hair dye. Check._

Time was a-ticking. He needed to hurry because Nero could wake up at any minute. So after discarding the plastic bag on the floor, not caring that Nero would get mad at him, he ran up to the second story bathroom. Once safely inside, he locked the doors behind him for extra security and continued on to the bathtub. He instantly spotted what he was looking for.

_Nero's shampoo. Check._

"No one messes with my pizza. No one." Truth be told, he was still upset over the fact that Nero had ruined his perfectly good pizza with the nasty abominations known as olives. They were absolutely repulsive and he couldn't believe they had touched his precious pizza. Nero had to pay.

He proceeded to unscrew the cap of Nero's bottle. Then he pulled out the hair dye and unscrewed its cap too. Carefully, he poured the concentration into the shampoo, its strong smell stinging his nose, and hoped that Nero wouldn't notice the difference.

_That should do it…_

To make sure it was fully mixed, he shook the concoction well before he placed it back on the corner of the tub where he had found it. Now all that was left to do was wait for Nero to wake up.

Dante left the bathroom, whistling a small tune for himself. Containing his eagerness was going to be hard, but he would have to be patient. He had to. This was the work of a mastermind – and one shouldn't rush a perfectly executed masterpiece.

Not long after, everything was going into motion; Nero had woken up and was now stomping up the stairs and trudging across the office in his morning grogginess.

"Bright eyed and bushy tailed as always, I see." Dante greeted, discreetly trying to hide the giddiness in his voice.

Nero simply grunted in response and paid him no mind as he went up the stairs to the bathroom. With the door firmly shut – its lock clicking into place – Dante felt his excitement roll off him in waves and he idly wondered what Nero would look like in a new color.

Waiting was one of the things he hated most. It was boring. And he just wanted to get to the good stuff. So as he waited, Dante struggled to keep himself preoccupied with his magazine. There was only so much to read when he knew it by heart from start to finish. He sighed.

Overhead, the ceiling fan spun in slow lazy circles and he watched it go round n' round, feeling it mesmerizing him a little…

Damn. He really was bored.

Then out of nowhere, a loud bang sounded. Dante quickly jumped to his feet, eyes looking to where the source of the noise had come from – and it was from the second floor.

"Daaanteee…" Nero growled lowly through clenched teeth. He had a towel draped over his head and behind him, a white mist seeped out from the bathroom door. "What… did you do…?" He glared down at Dante with murderous intent clearly written in his eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dante said; his voice became slightly higher than usual.

"Damn  **LIAR!** " The younger man roared. Clad in only a small towel around his waist, he suddenly vaulted over the second story balcony.

Dante couldn't believe what he was seeing. In that one instant, everything seemed to go into slow-motion; the towel that was covering Nero's head flew off and exposed his newly pink locks; they were a stark contrast to the dull colors of the equally dull office. And then Dante felt his breath hitch in his throat at the sight – not from Nero's new hair ruffling gloriously in his descent, but from the tiny little towel wrapped snugly around his waist.

The fact that his towel was haphazardly fluttering upwards was reason enough to stare unabashedly at it.

If Dante kept his eyes glued to it – and restrained himself from not outright wishing it flew off with the other towel – then he just might catch an embarrassing glimpse to what was under. Nero's size would be the perfect blackmail material for the future.

But unfortunately – and fortunately for Nero – it didn't fly off like he almost wanted and he was only able to get a peek at Nero's toned thighs. Dante still gave a low whistle and mock-admired the view while it lasted.

 _He surprisingly has nice looking-… yeah, let's not go there._  That was when he snapped back into reality – the time returning to normal – and noticed that Nero's Devil Bringer was flaring up viciously. The expression on the younger would have been frightening if it weren't for his rather girly looking hair that framed his face. Dante hastily dodged the glowing fist and Nero ended up punching a hole in the floor; wood splintered out from the violent impact and Dante cringed from the sight.

"My floor!" Dante practically wailed. The last thing he wanted was to have his office in ruins again.

Nero pulled his hand out of the floorboards and stood up from where he landed safely. "You should be more worried about yourself!" Then he charged towards Dante once more, his Devil Bringer poised and glowing for another swing.

"Uh oh." He ducked under Nero's thrown punch, feeling the demonic aura that emanated from Nero's fist breeze past his face; it nearly caught him by his jaw. But because Nero had missed, it would be a mistake on the younger's part. It was an interesting turn of events to say the least. Never did he expect that an angry, half-naked, Nero would try to engage him in hand-to-hand combat. Life had its charms, he guessed.

Sadly, this little fun had to end. Dante took advantage of Nero's grave mistake and pulled the towel free off of the younger man.

"Aw,  _shit!_ " Nero cursed and twisted his body away, hurriedly trying to cover his dignity as fast as he could.

"Olé!" Dante cheered after making a mad dash towards the exit. He had enough decency to not turn around and look, but that didn't stop him from brandishing Nero's towel in his hand like it was a trophy.

"Give it to me!" He heard Nero shout from behind him.

 _That's what she said…_ And Dante returned the towel to Nero, tossing it back over his shoulder. "Now take care of the place while I'm gone!" He said, casually strolling towards his car.

"Wait till you get back! I'm not going to forget this!" Nero shouted angrily from behind him.

Dante flipped his tailcoat in response, completely disregarding the younger man now that he was outside. Plus he was glad that he got away; as amusing as it had been, he definitely did not want to deal with an angry naked Nero.

 

* * *

 

Night had already fallen by the time Dante arrived back at Devil May Cry. He parked his car in its usual spot on his side of the street and got out. On the roof, his establishment's logo flickered more than usual. The thunderstorm had taken its toll on his old sign. When he earned more money – and after he paid off his debts – then he would think about replacing it in the future. But right now, the blinking sign still worked and that was all that mattered.

He crossed the threshold to his office and shrugged off his trench coat once he was inside, draping it over one arm.

All seemed quiet, the lights were left on for him, and Nero wasn't anywhere in sight.

 _He must be in his room_ , Dante hoped. After being gone all day, Nero should have calmed down by now – or at least calm enough to not want to bite his head off for his earlier prank.

Before he even had any time to register, someone had sneaked behind him and pulled him into a hold.

" _Welcome home_ , old man." Nero growled lowly in his ear.

The kid was faster than he thought and he had underestimated Nero's skills once again because he had been completely caught off guard. Now Dante was trapped in a sleeper hold; he couldn't speak since Nero had his demonic arm wrapped tightly around his neck, restricting his air flow, while the human one prevented escape by restraining Dante's arms behind his back.

How do you like that?" The younger asked softly, contrasting with the harsh squeeze of his arm. Of course Dante couldn't respond – he couldn't even turn his head to look at Nero, so he settled with vigorously trying to shake him off. But that proved to be a difficult feat since the kid decided to hold on by wrapping his legs securely around his waist.

Luckily, Dante had a bigger build and he was still able to walk around even with a brat straddling his back. Again, he tried to shake Nero off by twisting his body in jerky movements. But when that didn't do the trick, he decided that he needed to try another tactic.

So he made to ram Nero into a wall, or even the pool table since it was nearby. However, Nero seemed to catch on to what he was planning and released his hold of Dante's arms to cover his eyes instead.

Dante was plunged into darkness; all he could hear was Nero's labored breathing – and his occasional little grunts – in his ear as the kid persistently tried to hold on. Though Dante's hands were now free and trying to pry off the hand that covered his eyes, Nero was a stubborn opponent that didn't let up.

He had no idea where he was walking to since he lost his sense of direction, but he would continue nonetheless. As long as he hit something hard enough, then there was a chance for him to-

He suddenly lost his footing, and they both toppled backwards, with Dante feeling the strangest sensation of his weight leaving his body – until everything halted in one jarring physical moment.

Dante gasped loudly, coughing as he tried to get air back into his system; light soon filtered back into his vision as his eyes blinked open. Above, the ceiling fan was still turning in its slow steady circle, the little cobwebs around it swaying in the nonexistent breeze created. Then the groaning beneath him caught his attention and he realized that he was free. Without a second to spare, Dante flipped himself over and pinned Nero down this time; he seized the kid's hands and restrained them above his head.

"Tch…" Nero's heated gaze was on him and Dante could feel his narrowed deep blue eyes boring into his. They were both breathing hard; Dante from finally being able to breathe again and Nero from having exerted a lot of energy into keeping a hold on Dante.

"I did say I liked it rough…" Dante finally answered. "But I prefer to top."

Nero only scoffed in reply, not looking the least bit concerned that Dante had him in his clutches now.

That hole is going to come out of your next paycheck, you know." Dante said, looking back over his shoulder at his foot that was still in the hole – the hole that had tripped him earlier.

Nero didn't respond. He turned his head to the side and closed his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. The kid didn't seem all that concerned with the giant hole he caused in the office floor either.

Hey, are you listening to me?"

Even though the younger was now blatantly trying to ignore him, Dante just notice now how flushed Nero's face was; and with the way Nero avoided eye contact, it didn't look as if he was red because of exhaustion.

_No. I'm just over-analyzing things. Hell would have to freeze over for anything like that to ever happen._

Still, he thought Nero was rather cute when he looked this vulnerable. Dante hummed appreciatively and allowed himself a moment to enjoy his victory, but he quickly moved on because he was still practically straddling Nero and questionable images were soon creeping into his mind. "Guess it was a good thing you hadn't tried to patch up the hole yet. You lost because of it." He smirked down at the kid. "My reward: you have to fix it."

"Go blow yourself," was Nero's rude remark.

"Should I make you do that as my reward, too?" Dante countered snidely. Whether he was just saying that as a smart comeback, or whether it was the result of their current predicament, he didn't want to think too deeply on it.

"Do you have to make  _everything_  perverted?" Nero said, turning back to glare up at him.

"You're the one who said it." Though he honestly loved it when people set themselves up. He couldn't help himself when it happened and things  _did_  tend to get blurted out. "But yeah, maybe I do." And one hand left Nero's wrist to caress his cheek; they felt very warm to the touch and as soft as he remembered. Nero's eyes widened in shock, and his face flushed into a deeper shade of red. When Dante's hand trailed down to Nero's neck, he both felt and saw the movement of Nero swallowing in nervousness.

"Really… why are you so…?" Nero squeezed his eyes shut as Dante's hand slithered down to his chest and he was forced to ground out the next word through his clenched teeth, "…touchy."

It was simply hilarious. Dante knew Nero was getting the wrong idea, what with the way he was trying to hide his face in embarrassment. Oh he just loved pushing all the wrong buttons. Nero was just easy pickings. But he decided not to leave the poor kid guessing for too long and proceeded to tickle Nero without warning.

"Wha!" Nero shouted in half surprise, half laughter. "Stop that! Ahaha!"

"You know you like to smile, kid." Dante said, lightly digging his fingers into the sensitive area while his other hand continued to keep Nero's hands pinned to the floor.

"f-Fuck you!" The kid managed to spit out, though there wasn't much bite to his words at all.

There are moments when Dante wished the kid wasn't so keen on keeping others at a distance with his lousy attitude. Nero may never know how truly concerned he was about him, but that was fine with Dante. He knew that when it came to matters of the heart, he could be just as closed off from everyone else as much as Nero was. And neither would openly ask for help. Nero was very much how he used to be, which was the reason why he wanted to offer the kid a hand.

"Give it up, Pinky." Dante jeered.

"What did you- hehe! Just call me?!"

"Pinky." Dante repeated, enjoying how ridiculous the name sounded. Dante stopped tickling Nero for a moment to reach up and flick at the bangs that covered Nero's forehead. "The color really suits you, you know."

That reignited Nero's anger and he growled menacingly. "I bet black and blue would look amazing on you then!" He pulled at his restrained hands like he wanted to punch him, but Dante only chuckled at the threat that couldn't be backed up and resumed tickling Nero harder.

"Fine!" Nero wheezed through his laughter. "I-… I give up! Just get off me!"

When Dante finally released his grip on Nero's wrists, the kid hastily shoved him off and got to his feet. He then jabbed a finger at Dante. "Next time you touch me, I'm breaking your hands."

"Hey, you attacked  _me_  first."

"Only because you did  _this_  to me!" Nero exclaimed, gesturing at his colored hair. He really did look stupid with pink hair and that definitely made him look more approachable.

"But you had to go and mess with my pizza," reminded Dante.

Nero stared at Dante in disbelief. "…You always did have a jacked up notion of fair play…"

Dante shrugged at the kid. He actually thought he was perfectly justified. Then his stomach growled out of nowhere.

"All you think about is food." Nero said, pinching the bridge of his nose in a display of agitation.

"And hunting," Dante added with a chuckle. "Don't forget that."

"Tch. I should just let you starve." In spite of his caustic words, Nero shook his head and retreated into the kitchen. Dante didn't even need to follow to know that Nero was going to cook for them. The kid was thoughtful and good at heart. And that was what Dante liked about him.

However, he liked Nero's homemade cooking the most.

 

* * *

 

Extra

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot take this chapter seriously. lol. But it was about time I threw in a little "action" between them. xD Hope that was satisfactory? And please forgive my lame jokes throughout this chapter. I tried… :'c


	10. Newfound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to put extra care into this chapter… but there will always be mistakes hiding somewhere… :c

_Another one._

Nero sat on the side of his bed and was leaning his weight onto his knees as he hung his head in silence. He had just woken up from one of those terrible nightmares again – the kind that left you feeling hollow inside and your only respite from it was that it had only been a dream.

_It's just a dream. A. Stupid. Dream._

Oh how he wished it was that easy to cast off.

There were days when he didn't dream, days when he couldn't remember that he had dreamed, but today was one of those days in which he was plagued by an especially bad one. He had seen that place again; had been forced to run endlessly. And simply waking up from the nightmare – his forehead swathed with sweat, his heart racing a mile a minute, and understanding that it was all just a dream – did not do much in terms of calming his frayed nerves. It was still dark where he awoke; his bedroom just as cold as in his nightmare; a nightmare that left Nero hating himself more, and it was a cycle that would soon repeat itself… Of that he was sure because it always had.

But try as he might to compose himself, to reassure himself that everything would be all right so long as no one was hurt by him, Nero saw the futility in it all. He honestly didn't know how much more he could handle and he thought about how many more failures he would have to endure – how many more he'd either create… or relive. Little by little his fear, his anxiety, and his self loathing were all leaving their marks, ebbing away at his consciousness and engraining themselves into him so deeply that he felt as if he might one day go insane from it all.

He wanted out. Give him a reprieve, or forgiveness, even punishment would do – just anything that would take it all away, or at least anything that could relieve some of the guilt that burdened his conscience, weighing him down with his sins. Yet no matter how badly he wanted to be free, he lacked the will and courage to seek for eternal peace. It was something he instinctively understood that he did not have the privilege of. What would Kyrie think of him if she found that he had taken the coward's way out? What would Dante think?

Dante would… probably laugh at him while he ended up toiling forever in Hell…

The thought of the old man brought Nero back to the present and he stared down hollowly at the floor, wondering if he should get up or stay down in the basement longer. Dealing with people was the last thing he wanted to do, but he also didn't just want to keep wallowing pathetically in the depraving remnants of his nightmare.

Tiredly, he palmed the weariness from his eyes and then let his hands stay where they were, shielding himself for a moment from the world he'd have to face.

How much longer would he have to do this? How many more regrets?

He gave a sigh and stood up from his bed. If he had learned anything so far, lingering on his dreams would be nothing but a detriment to his goals and would only further degenerate his self-control – which was exactly what was happening now because he had mistakenly forgotten himself. After taking a little more time to clear his head, Nero went about his daily routine, though he decided to skip out on a shower today because he didn't trust the bathroom and he wasn't going to bother remembering why, lest he work himself up into a fit. He turned on the lights, the dust-covered fluorescent bulb buzzing into life overhead as it swung from its wire, making the shadows in Nero's room dance high and low.

First off, he always started with maintaining his equipment; taking apart Blue Rose, cleaning it piece by piece, and then reassembling it back together – as well as making sure it's loaded for the next mission. After, he would place his gun back at its usual spot, on the shelf by his bedside, and attend to his Red Queen next, polishing and sharpening its blade and working out any nicks he'd see along its edge before he'd check if it needed refueling. This would be his daily routine; a great way to distract his thoughts if he had trouble with his dreams.

From chore to chore and job to job, he'd spend his days doing what needed to be done, becoming solely preoccupied on the belief that every demon he killed would help atone for the lives he had intruded upon since birth; that every demon killed would make the world one demon safer for Kyrie. For Kyrie, he'd carry out this single-minded task. It was really  _all_  he could do for her now and a part of him hoped that it would lead him to the forgiveness he so desperately seeked.

In the middle of finishing up, gauging the weight of Red Queen to see if it was light on fuel, he heard murmurs coming from upstairs. He stopped what he was doing and stilled himself, focusing the voices to clarity.

"…nailing a board over it?" Said a feminine voice; Nero didn't catch the beginning of her sentence but it was safe to assume that she was talking about the hole in the floor.

"He'll get around to fixing it properly." That was obviously Dante.

"Don't spoil the brat, Dante." It was another female, but unlike the other, her deliverance was just as harsh as her words.

"I'm not! Honestly, what do you take me for?"

"An idiot," answered the harsh voice.

"Okay," Dante chuckled, "I gave you that one."

"Seriously Dante, you-…" The sultry female's voice faded out as Nero ignored the rest of the conversation and laid Red Queen down on his bed.

Dante seemed to have company over and he didn't want to eavesdrop anymore on them. However, he honestly envied the old man's ability to casually joke around with others, like it came easily and naturally to him. It was an ability he didn't possess… or at least he no longer did. Distantly, he heard Dante and his guests laughing and it only made him miss the times where he'd laugh just as freely with Kyrie; her contagious laughter, her infectious smile… she brightened any room she entered whether she meant to or not.

The sound of heels clacking brought him out of his thoughts. They were coming closer. "So is this his room?"

"Trish, don't go barging into someone's room." Dante reprimanded, ceasing her advance.

"What's with the over-protectiveness? You never complain when Lady does it to you." Nero now recognized Trish's rich, and if he were any other man, seductive laughter.

"Trish…" came the second female's voice. That one must be Lady then.

"It's the truth, isn't it?" Trish said, her voice purring, "You always come by frequently to check if he has some random woman in his-"

"Whoa – Hey!" Dante shouted suddenly, complimented by the sound of something scraping across the floorboards. "Lady why are you pointing your gun at  **me?!** "

"Keep quiet, Trish," she ordered.

"And stop trying to start things," Dante added with a stomp.

Nero heard Trish laugh again.

So did Dante and Lady have a thing? Nero pondered on that thought.  _Must be nice to have someone nearby…_ He had become somewhat of a pessimist as of late and was already finding himself worrying about who Kyrie must be with – if she had already forgotten him. He gritted his teeth in anger. There was no use getting angry about it… because this was what he had chosen for her… but still… silencing his possessive side was a feat in and of itself.

Nero decided that he had enough sulking around and went to get himself properly dressed, not forgetting to pull the hood over his head when he was all ready. He hoped the girls came by because they had a job at hand.

"Oh, I hear him coming up." Trish said.

"Your obnoxious laughter must have woken him."

"Want to run that by me again?"

Nero stepped out of the basement before Dante could respond and nodded at them all in greeting. Trish was right by his door while Lady stood in front of Dante, who sat at his desk.

Good morning, Nero." Trish greeted him sweetly. However, the way she ran her eyes over him eerily reminded Nero of how Dante checked out women.

"Mornin'…" He averted his eyes as per usual, hoping his short answer would suffice. From what he had encountered so far, the women of Capulet were too forward for his liking. They were nothing like a certain auburn-haired girl… Shit. He was thinking about her too much again.

She walked over to him and tried to peer into his face, but he stepped away from her, keeping his preferred distance.

"Aww, are you hiding your bed head under that hood?"

"Actually, he's-" Nero cut off Dante with a particularly threatening glare and the man in turn stayed silent, but instead gave him a rather mischievous smile.

"He's what?" Trish asked, noticing the exchange between the two hunters. Lady seemed to notice as well and she looked none too happy about it.

"Ask him yourself," was his response.

Nero nervously tugged lower at his hood. The last time he talked to one of them, he had been spewing nonsense and he wasn't about to say anything stupid again – most of all, let them know that Dante had dyed his hair pink. So he opted for, "It's none of your business."

Well… that came out sounding ruder than he had meant and it prompted Trish to give an indignant huff, crossing her arms over her chest. He noticed that the shirt she had on this time covered more of her skin at least – not that he was interested in her.

"Naughty, boy." He heard her say. Did she think he was staring at her chest? He hoped not. It only lasted a second at most. "And here I thought you'd at least be pleasant to me."

"Good luck with that." Dante muttered from his seat, but he had purposely done it loud enough for them to hear.

Trish rolled her eyes and ignored the older man. Then, smiling coyly, she said, "I know this great place-"

"No thanks." Nero's rejection was abrupt. Dante was trying hard not to laugh and Lady was putting him under some intense scrutiny.

"Don't tell me you only go out on hunts."

"Basically." And he was also blunt.

"Is hanging around here with him that much fun?" She most likely meant Dante.

"When you put it  _that_  way…" Nero trailed off.

"You punk!" Dante shouted. "Damn right it is!"

"No one asked for your opinion, Dante." Trish jeered at him before returning her attention to Nero. "So what do you say? We can…" She grabbed Nero by his arm, his right side, and it all happened so fast; the physical contact was so sudden that it startled Nero.

"Don't touch me!" In anger, he wrenched her hand off. At his sudden outburst, Lady had her gun back out in a matter of seconds and aimed at Nero. Within the blink of an eye, Dante automatically moved in to shield him. The movement was so instantaneous and unexpected that it was like Dante hadn't been sitting down at all; his chair never even made a sound.

"What's up with the, brat?" Lady asked levelly, her pistols trained on them as Trish held her hands up, backing herself towards her friend; Trish's demeanor was now calm and collected, her eyes holding a sharpened alertness to them. Lady addressed the older man again, "Answer me, Dante."

That was when Nero noticed that she didn't have her sunglasses on. Her eyes were unique in the regard that one was green and the other was red, but even more striking was the large scar that ran across the bridge of her nose; a scar which effortlessly made her quiet rage look intimidating. And for a brief moment, Nero thought he saw a flash of hurt flicker over Lady's features before it was quickly masked with a hardened stare.

Now what exactly  _had_  he done to deserve her anger? Or was this woman that easily offended? All he did was pry her friend's hand away – and if he recalled, this was only their third meeting. What the hell?

"Whoa now, Lady. Is this really necessary?" Dante asked, taking a second to peek over his shoulder at Nero. "He's just a little quick to anger. He's not going to hurt anybody."

"I don't need you to stick up for me." Nero said irritably at Dante's back. Seriously. What was up with everyone?

"I knew you were coddling him." Lady gritted out angrily. Since she didn't have her sunglasses on, Nero clearly saw the death glare she threw at him, her hetero-chromatic eyes growing livid. "I've kept quiet about it, but don't think I'll let what he did to you slide."

The air inside the office was growing thick with tension. Nero felt himself clamming up. These people were Dante's close friends – they wouldn't be upset without a reason. Lady hadn't mentioned any specifics, but he had a vague sense that he knew what she was referring to: the "incident" where he blacked out and tore a hole through Dante. As if he didn't feel guilty enough that more needed to be dumped on the heavy regrets he already shouldered. His burden only kept growing it seemed.

"I can't hide anything from you, can I?" Dante said, easy-going as always despite the growing gravity of the situation. "So how did you plan to take him out? A fancy candle-lit dinner or a simple bullet to the head?"

Not a peep came from Trish, who hung back and kept her sight steadied on Nero.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Lady was openly scowling now. "If he's a danger, I'll put him down if you  _won't_."

Dante sighed. "It's alright.  _I'm_ alright," he emphasized. "You really don't need to worry. Now, please, just put your gun away."

But his words weren't convincing enough; her gun was still pointed in their direction.

I have it under control." Dante said the words slowly and surely, still trying to reassure her and get her to calm down.

"Don't talk as if you're my owner." Nero spat heatedly. He was being looked down on again.

"I'm not. Look, I'm trying to do you a favor," Dante said, never taking his eyes from Lady. "And if you haven't noticed yet, there are two trained demon hunters in the room and one's just itching to blow your brains off.  _So stay back._  And let  _me_  deal with them."

The old man was being serious for once. He hadn't seen him like this in a long time. Yet it was one thing to take his side and defend him, but Dante wasn't letting him fight his own fights. Talk about insulting.

"Really? How noble of you." Sarcasm inflicted his every word. "But you can take your favors and shove it."

"I'd watch your tone, boy." Trish said, finally speaking up. "He  _is_  the one keeping you from getting a bullet lodged in that thick-headed skull of yours."

"If she thinks she can take me down, then I'd like to see her try." Nero growled. He usually would never lay a hand on women, but this one was a hunter who looked like she could put up a good fight. And besides, she wanted to kill him apparently.

" _Nero, don't._ " It was a command.

His name. It felt strange hearing Dante use his name like that – like he needed to heed his call. And it bothered him extremely because it worked. The adrenaline that had been slowly building up within him was now receding. Lady might have pissed him off, but seeing Dante looking so conflicted drained away his anger and made him not want to disappoint the man any further by doing something as stupid as getting into a fight with one of his close friends.

"Under control, huh?" Lady sneered, "Doesn't look that way to me." She flicked her gaze over to the hole briefly and then back to Dante, a smug look plastered on her face.

"Oh… that's because-…" he started, but Nero had had enough by this point.

"Screw it, I'm out." The woman was infuriating, his patience had run thin, and he wasn't just going to stand there and take it. Nero shook his head as he walked away towards the exit; his nightmare – and now whatever  _this_  was – had him on edge again, and in order to avoid last time's catastrophe, he decided that he'd go and sort himself out.

"No one is asking you to leave." He heard Dante say.

"On the contrary…" Lady interjected.

"Lady,  _please._ " Dante said, sounding terse. "Kid-"

"Save it." And when Nero heard Dante following after, he spitefully added, "I'll be fine without you."

The footsteps halted and Nero was out the door.

"Are you sure about this, Dante?" Trish asked – her voice still within earshot.

Before Nero could hear Dante's answer, the office doors swung shut behind him.

 

* * *

 

There was still plenty of daylight left, but Nero had long been out of the office; he had practically gotten chased out by Trish and Lady, though Lady was the main instigator. The whole morning after he had left, he avoided Dante's place like a plague and tried not to dwell on the fact that Lady had put him on her hit-list. It took a while, but he eventually simmered down and now he was just strolling around Capulet, making sure he had the general direction of the office kept in mind.

Whenever things got hectic back in Fortuna, Nero usually went out on hunts as a way to cope with his pent up anger. But not this time… because the last time he went out on an angry tirade, he lost his senses and pretty much ended up regretting his impulsive choice. So there was none of that. He'd still rather have something to physically punch though; to simply beat out his frustrations using his bare fists and feel the instant gratification.

He knew he was a little unstable nowadays – okay, maybe more than a little – but that was why he took extra care to keep people at a distance. He simply didn't trust himself anymore. However, it had become an especially bad habit of his to get mad when someone even accidently touched his demonic arm. The looks people had given him before when they had seen it, like he was impure, a freak –  _a monster._

And it was true.

He hated how it had basically destroyed his life as easily as it had destroyed his foes. Things would have been fine if all that the people of Fortuna muttered behind his back was that he was a gun-toting heathen. But sadly, that wasn't how things went. And as much as he hated his demonic arm, he needed it now. Like Red Queen and Blue Rose, his Devil Bringer was an integral part of his plans if he were to find atonement by ridding the world of demons.

It was ironic, really. Even if he physically removed his right arm, it wouldn't change the fact that he himself was still part demon.

The taint would always be in his blood.

He stopped walking and began to wonder what Dante and those girls had been talking about since he had left. Would they convince Dante to turn on him? They had known him longer than Nero had and he wouldn't fault the man for listening to them.

A passerby stared at him in confusion because he was audibly growling again for the umpteenth time that day. Dozens of people were walking past him, each with their own daily lives; men in suits shuffled to work, teenagers fiddled about on their phones, and middle-aged women gossiped between friends. Capulet was a city bustling with life, but despite all its energy, Nero suddenly felt as lonely as when he had left Fortuna.

Would he lose another home?

Whatever Dante's answer came to be, he'd have to go back later to find out. He hoped that by the time he returned, the women would be gone.

So as Nero continued wandering listlessly around Capulet, trying to kill time before his inevitable trek back to the office, he stumbled upon a park. Incidentally, it was the same park that he had found last time; the same one where his memories started to get fuzzy after meeting a boy swinging by himself on a swing set. He hadn't been fooled for a second though; the moment the boy had casted his eyes in his direction, Nero's Devil Bringer had grown brighter, indicating that the boy he had seen wasn't human. He remembered that it had attacked him first; its body had morphed into a creature with long, gangly limbs and it had laughed at him with a cruel impish grin that never left its features – no matter what he tried.

It became harder for him to recall what happened during their fight; he only pulled up blanks, but his last conscious memory was of raw, unrestrained rage. Dante had filled him in on the rest of the details later and explained that when he found Nero, he had already mutilated the demon to death.

Dante had never expressed anger at him for what he had done next. Or maybe he just didn't show it. All he'd done was smile that same stupid smile. After all that, he didn't stop trying to help him… even though… he…

Thinking about it sent a chill up his spine as he was able to dredge up one vivid memory of plunging his demonic arm through Dante; the heat from inside his body had been searing. Nero's stomach turned at the fragmented moments of feeling hot warmth gushing down his arm and hearing wet splashes hitting the ground noisily. He wouldn't blame Lady for wanting to put a bullet in him.

The old man had done a lot for him, more than he deserved, and Nero felt guilty for having been too harsh towards him earlier. He owed him too much already.

A chorus of laughter brought his attention to a small group of children on the playground. They were gathered together, giggling and bouncing happily. It wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary, but on a closer inspection, he noticed that they were surrounding a small animal in their little circle and were roughly manhandling it. He could hear delighted little squeals as they simultaneously petted and pulled on the creature's fur.

When it yipped loudly from its tail being yanked, Nero knew it was a dog. A young boy whacked it on the top of its head, saying, "No! Bad dog! Not nice!" And some of them mirrored the boy's action, chanting the same phrase. The dog whined and whimpered even more from the abuse while the others continued to pet it or pull at its fur; one even squeezed the poor thing.

Nero forgot about his own worries, becoming concerned for the dog instead, and headed towards the group. He knew that they all thought it was cute, but they didn't realize that they were being too rough with their petting and were actually hurting it.

"Hey!" He shouted at them across the distance, quickly closing the gap between him and the group of children. In unison, they all turned their heads to the source of the voice and each child's eyes grew wide with panic.

"Pedal fill!" One of the older girls screeched, and they all scrambled to their feet, scared by his approach. Like dandelions in the wind, the kids scattered in random directions, abandoning the small dog to whatever horrific fate they imagined Nero would impose on them.

"Damn kids…" Nero muttered under his breath. He  _was_  too old to be hanging around a children's playground – not to mention he wore a hood that concealed most of his face – but he wasn't going to-…  _Forget it._  He continued on towards the dog. Today was determined to be a god-awful one.

Upon reaching the playground, he saw that it wasn't a dog but a puppy. It never moved from its spot despite that the children were no longer around to prevent its escape, choosing to lay submissively still. Nero crouched down near it and the puppy peered up at him; its eyes were big and glistening as its ears flattened themselves on its head in fright. A small, barely noticeable growl trembled from its tiny throat.

"It's okay… I won't hurt you…" Nero said softly, inching himself closer. At first, it shrank back from him, still growling softly, but when Nero slowly held out his hand, the puppy's natural curiosity got the better of it and it cautiously lifted its head to sniff at his hand. Nero felt its cold wet nose brush against his fingers and he smiled when the puppy gave him a lick as if to say  _'I'll be good.'_

From the looks of it, the puppy might be a lost stray since there wasn't a collar around its neck and its fur appeared to be light brown in color, matted in a tangled mess with dirt clumps clinging from its chest down to its paws, presumably from not having any shelter during the past rainy days. He looked around the park, the children long gone by now, and wondered if he should take the puppy with him just in case those kids came back. There was no way he'd just leave the little thing alone after he'd seen its condition. Who knew how long this puppy had been lost – and it might as well be a miracle that it had survived wandering around Capulet by itself so far. There were many,  _many_  ways this frail little puppy could have met its death; from car crashes to hungry demons, this puppy had somehow avoided them all.

And to think it could have fallen into the hands of unruly children…

Nero sighed and took off his gray sweatshirt. He was going to take in this puppy and he didn't give a damn about who would see his stupid hair. The pink fringe ghosting over his eyesight still annoyed him to no end, but he'd rather cover up the puppy than his pride right now.

After draping the sweatshirt around the scared pup, Nero lifted it into his arms and made sure its body was wrapped snugly. The puppy was disconcertingly light in his arms and it was when Nero realized how drastically malnourished the tiny thing was beneath all its matted fur.

"How about I get you something nice to eat, hm?" He said to the little bundle cradled in his arm and it replied to him with a weak whimper.

Would Dante allow pets at Devil May Cry?

 

* * *

 

Many snickering kids and gawking adults later, Nero arrived back at the office and just as he'd hoped, Trish and Lady weren't around, however, neither was Dante. He should be at ease because he didn't have to deal with them – for now – but not seeing the old man and his warm welcoming smile made him feel anxious. Did they go out in search of him? Had Dante decided…?

The bundle in his arms wiggled a bit and reminded Nero that he wanted to get something for the puppy to eat.

 _I'll just wait for him to get back then…_  So he gently laid the puppy down on the leather couch and went over to the kitchen to see if he had anything in the fridge to feed it.

Beer… Beer… More beer. An  _open_  bottle of beer… and some leftover slices of pizza. Had it really been that long since he'd last went out grocery shopping? He was just about to go for the pizza, but then something in the back of the fridge caught his eye: a can of ham – a stroke of luck. They didn't carry dog food for obvious reasons, so the canned ham would have to do for now. He grabbed it, pried open the lid, and returned to the sofa.

"You hungry?" He asked, sitting down beside the puppy. Its nose visibly twitched when Nero held out a piece of meat for it to sample. "Go on. Eat," he encouraged. Nero watched in content as the puppy chowed down on the rest of the ham, cleaning the whole can spotless; and when it nudged Nero's hand, looking for more, he showed his empty palm. "Sorry, I don't have any more."

It whined feebly, but after a while, the short rest and meal appeared to have rejuvenated the puppy and it started yapping while it jumped playfully on and off Nero's lap, its paws smudging dirt all over his jeans. Nero didn't mind it in the slightest if it meant the puppy was happy. Then when it finally wore itself out, its short burst of hyper-activeness depleted, the puppy curled into the corner of the couch and promptly fell asleep; its belly full and satisfied.

As it slept, Nero gently stroked the fur atop its tiny head. Tomorrow, he'd give it a bath…

"What do we have here…?" A deep familiar voice spoke from above him. Dante made himself known and was watching him from the balcony.

"You're home." Nero didn't even sense the man's presence. How long had he been there?

"Yeah, I never left." Then he nodded his head at the snoozing pup, "Care to explain?"

"I… found it," and quickly added, "At the park."

"Did you just take someone's dog?" He asked, perplexed.

"No, I checked for a collar." Nero heard the almost joking tone in Dante's voice, but he thought he must have imagined it. "Some kids were messing with it and…" He looked back down at the little puppy sleeping peacefully on his sweatshirt. Abandoning it was never a viable option for him. "…Can I keep it?"

"And if I said no?"

Nero looked up at Dante. If Dante said no, it meant no. "I'll understand."

Dante looked as if he was genuinely surprised by Nero's reaction, but it was short-lived and he started smirking. "You didn't need to ask me… But alright. I don't mind taking in another stray."

His easy banter took Nero aback.

"Who are you calling a stray…?" Nero muttered, rubbing at his nose.

Dante came downstairs to get a better look at the puppy. "This little guy sure is scrawny. So don't forget to patch up that hole. It won't be my fault if that dog of yours falls in."

"I know, I will." The hole was definitely big enough for a small animal to fall through… Restraint had never been his strong suit.

"That aside…" Dante shifted his weight from one foot to the other, crossing his arms as he gave the impression that he was contemplating something. "Sorry about earlier," he finally said. "I didn't think they were going to go off on you like that."

So now they were going to have the talk…

"What's there to be sorry for? I  _am_  dangerous." Nero brushed off the apology. He doesn't blame Lady and Trish for getting angry. They obviously cared for Dante.

"Don't get cute with me, pinky. Dangerous people don't bother picking up helpless animals off the street," Dante snorted.

Nero seriously hoped the stupid nickname wouldn't stick. He really did. He'd rather take "kid" or "brat" any day.

I've talked to them." Dante continued, his whole demeanor becoming serious as he looked Nero in the eyes. "And I'm not going to let them scare you off."

"Oh," was all Nero managed to utter. He didn't want to show it, but he honestly felt relieved hearing Dante's answer. He hadn't been sure if he would get a favorable response, but he had and it meant the two hadn't yet convinced Dante to get him to leave – or worse, killed. Dante was still willing to keep him around. What did it mean?

"Lady…" Dante said her name with fondness. "She'll take some getting used to, but she's not that bad."

"Is that so?" Nero's skepticism was clearly evident in his tone and he meant for it to show.

"She really isn't," he defended, but then his next words contradicted his claim, "She shot me in the head once though… one hell of an aim…" Dante saw the way Nero cocked his eyebrow at him and faux coughed into his hand before he belatedly clarified, "Ahem – er… She hated demons. Back then."

"And now?"

"She still hates them… But Trish and I are one of her few exceptions." Dante said, shrugging. "She's really only upset with you because you went nuts on me that one night."

"I figured it was that…" There was the guilt coming back in… Since they were Dante's close friends, it wouldn't be the last time he'd see them, and now that he was sure that this was still his home, he'd have to seriously work on his conduct in the future. Not because he was scared of the women, but because he respected Dante.

"I swear she's keeping tabs on me…" Dante suddenly mumbled, mostly to himself.

"I'm really sorry…" Nero stared down dejectedly at his hands clasped on his lap. They were in this situation because of him – because he couldn't keep his emotions in check.

"You apologized already – a lot, actually. Do you…" Dante stopped himself. He looked away then, licking his lips as he thought his words through, and when he looked back at Nero, he seemed… almost worried. "You know I'm not mad at you, right? About what happened before?"

Nero had thought about it – had seen that Dante held no ill will towards him – but he could never bring himself to fully believe that Dante wasn't mad. "Lady and Trish are, but why aren't you?"

"Because I like you." Dante's answer was simple, honest, and direct – which shouldn't have been too much of a surprise because it was Dante, but Nero still felt shocked by his straight-forwardness. "I know you're a good kid."

"Good?" Nero laughed in derision. "How am I good? I've been nothing but trouble for you. And you just – you always…" His words withered away along with his voice. What he wanted to say next sounded too childish; the idea behind such a reasoning too illogical. It didn't make sense.

"Yeah, you  _can_  be a pain in the ass." Dante chuckled, agreeing with Nero, and leisurely stroked the stubble on his jaw. "But I don't think I could trust anyone else as much as you to watch my back. Lady's a great hunter and all, but she's still just a human… and Trish… well she's stabbed me in the back before, so I'll never really know what that woman is thinking." And he added with a lopsided grin, "You're essentially the best out of the worst."

"Am I supposed to feel flattered…?" Nero stared at Dante in bewilderment. So was that the kind of company Dante kept around?

"Sure, why not?" He shrugged, playfully laughing it off.

_You always just smiled._

It didn't make sense but it was because of times like this that Nero felt grateful for knowing Dante. No matter the situation, no matter the outcome, Dante found a way to keep smiling. He was always so care-free and sometimes… it rubbed off on him.

_Wait. Why is he unbuttoning his shirt?_

"Oh don't give me that face. Get your mind out of the gutter, kid." Dante said with a wink. "I just want to show you that I'm fine."

"I already saw…" Nero muttered quietly, turning his face away. Beside him, the puppy was kicking out its legs in its sleep.  _Wonder what kind of dream its having…_

"Give me your hand." Dante sat down next to him on the couch.

"What?" Nero looked back at Dante with a wary gaze. "…Why?"

"Just give me your hand," he repeated, beckoning with his fingers.

Confused, Nero held out his hand for Dante, but he didn't take it.

"No. The other hand."

Now Nero was really confused and he was hesitant to listen to the old man's strange request.

"You act as if I'm going to cut it off." Dante said, his tone sounding light. "Come on, give it here."

A weird sense of Déjà vu overwhelmed Nero and he sort of understood what the puppy must have felt like when it was unsure of whether or not it should trust in him. Slowly, Nero placed his clawed hand onto Dante's waiting palm.

"See. Not so bad, was it?" He joked.

"I don't see the point of-"

Dante lifted Nero's hand and placed it over his chest. Nero froze at the unexpected change, blinking rapidly at the sight of their hands together.

"I'm not mad because I know you didn't mean it." He said, his hand still holding Nero's clawed hand over his chest – a strange sight to Nero. "Sometimes seeing it is not enough to believe it. And look, you hardly left a scar. You don't have to keep apologizing – everyone makes mistakes."

There was actually a scar which he hadn't noticed before and it was roughly the size of his hand; the scar was just a slightly darker shade than his skin, so he could barely see the jagged edges of where it ended. It really wouldn't have been noticeable at all if Dante hadn't pointed it out.

Thump… Thump…

Although the sensation was not quite the same as his human hand, which was a lot more sensitive to physical touches, Nero could faintly feel Dante's steady heartbeat beneath his claws. This was the very chest these very claws had forcefully thrust into – had driven through both flesh and bone. He felt strange all of a sudden… like he was being driven by pure need.

' _Dominate.'_

The foreign feeling in him was slowly growing.

Thump. Thump.

And it was frightening.

' _Destroy.'_

With the rhythmic pulsing beneath his palms, Nero became easily enraptured by the drumming of Dante's heart. He imagined what it must look like beating in his chest.

What it would _feel_  like.

Th-thumpthumpthump.

' _Devour.'_

The sound of rushing water was in his ears, muffling everything around him, and before he knew it, his claws were digging into Dante's chest, trying to reopen the scar. Deeper and deeper they went, burrowing his claws through pliant flesh until a flood of ecstasy accompanied the break of skin. He only had a moment to revel in it because once the first rivulet of blood trickled over his finger, Nero snapped out of his high, slamming solidly back down to earth. In panic, he looked up at Dante.

He was staring at him, his expression unreadable.

"I-I'm sorry!" Nero stammered and he quickly retracted his claws, his human hand reaching up and clumsily trying to wipe away the blood trickling down, but he only smeared it messily over both Dante's chest and his hand. "Damn it… hold on!" Nero got up to go to the kitchen, but Dante stopped him with his words.

"It's okay."

Nero looked back in time to see the bleeding wound on Dante's chest heal before his eyes.

Don't sweat it. I shouldn't have surprised you like that. Sorry." Dante rubbed the back of his neck, not meeting Nero's gaze, and then got up to go to the kitchen himself.

A deafening silence followed Dante's leave. Nero stood where he was, not quite sure of what he should do, and just stayed stuck in place. He didn't know what came over him or why he had reacted like that… just that it was an overpowering feeling that consumed his thoughts.

When Nero heard the sound of running tap water, he broke from his stupor and bolted from the office, retreating down to his room. He didn't bother with turning on the lights – he was too panic-stricken to care – and after making it down the stairs without tripping over his own feet, he leaned against the wall.

 _Why am I so stupid?_ He thought angrily to himself.

Just as he was about to rub his face in exhaustion, he froze. His hands. Strangely, a smell was coming from his hands. What was even stranger was that it smelled familiar to him. He sniffed at his hand to be sure he wasn't just imagining things, but the scent was definitely there. It smelled sweet. Then his heart skipped a beat when he realized what it was.

The scent was Dante's blood.

He doesn't know why, but the moment he figured out it was Dante's, he was allured by the familiar sweet smell. Nero brought the tip of his finger to his lips, caught between hesitation and desire. As he stood in the darkness, the scent was dizzying… cloying… drowning him in its sinful seduction. He couldn't rationalize about what he wanted to do next – couldn't even find an ounce of care in him to think about what it made him.

He wanted it.

Dante's blood was the sweet nectar he never knew he craved.

It felt so taboo… and it fueled a deep destructive desire in him; a desire so strong that it made him want to find more – to go  _make_  more. His Devil Bringer twitched at his side as Nero felt his tongue lapping at his fingertip, hungrily trailing it down to his palm where more of the decadent taste greeted him. He was going to lose himself in this strange yet addictive intoxication if he didn't stop what he was doing… and soon.

Images started filtering to him; he couldn't control the flow of his thoughts and the secrets he kept hidden surged from the locked boxes of his subconscious mind. They were images of Dante's shocked face when his blood splattered over both of them, of Elio with his throat slashed and staining the earth crimson, of Kyrie… his dear… beloved… Kyrie…

Yet he couldn't imagine her face. Not at all. Why? Why couldn't he see her face?

Nero wanted nothing more than to see her… he wanted to see her badly… and have her lying before him… breathing her last. The most vivid and recent memory he managed to recall was the way her neck snapped in his hand; the sound and memorized feel of it was just as satisfyingly delicious as the blood he tasted.

"Nng!" Nero doubled over as a sudden pain overtook him and he started struggling to bring himself back; his rational side still intact, trying to resurface. Fight it. He had to fight it. So he battled for supremacy over his mind and body, doing his best to quell his innermost desires. But it was hard… because to do so was to deny his very nature – the most basic of instincts.

His dark room now felt like his nightmare, trapping, suffocating him. He could hear his labored breathing, he could feel the ecstatic rush in his veins, he could smell the sickeningly sweet blood of Dante, and he could see the blackness stretching far beyond. Was he actually dreaming again? Nero leaned back heavily against the wall behind him in an effort to anchor himself, his eyes seeing nothing as he looked up at the ceiling. He needed to relax and stop himself from falling into the euphoria that tantalized him – that tugged all his senses with its temptation.

Then overhead, Nero heard a melody; it was a guitar. And as it drifted down to him, the song shattered his frantic panicking and brought him back to his senses. Yet even with the moment of susceptibility broken, Nero cursed the fact that it only solidified the growing dread in the pit of his stomach.

It was what he feared. He wasn't dreaming this time. The coppery tang of Dante's blood was very real and it lingered on his tongue, taunting him – beckoning his demonic side. His knees gave out beneath him and he slid weakly to the floor in sickened shame.

He wanted  _more_.

So as he sat on the dusty concrete floor of his bedroom, Nero listened to the melodic strumming and imagined the hands of the man who played it.

Dante was like him too, wasn't he?

This hunger for destruction… It was what it meant to be a demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nero, uh… hrm… is this the start of… a fetish? Oh my. lol Or it could be that he's just had a really long day. But he's gotten the OK to keep the puppy!
> 
> Now give the next chapter some time. Maybe a lot of time. Gotta draw for that one.


End file.
